Believe
by SassyAngel05
Summary: Sequel to Little Child Lost. Set a year and a half later. Sydney thinks she and Rogan are safe from The Covenant, but Sark finds out if The Covenant and Irina's place in it has really ended. SS
1. Default Chapter

**_Believe_**

**_Chapter One_**

**_Irony_**

            Sydney Bristow lifted her happy little boy out of the swing on the playground near the beach.  She held him close but he wriggled away and went running down the playground to the slide.  Sydney laughed as she watched him play.  She couldn't imagine a time she had been without Rogan, but she knew it hadn't been so long ago that she couldn't even remember him.  It had been a year and a half since Sloane had come to take him away from her again, to fulfill Rambaldi's prophecy for the Passenger.  Sydney never knew what Rogan was supposed to do in that prophecy, but since Sloane had been killed instead of her, she wasn't worried.  She and Sark had already changed the course of destiny and there was no need to fret over Rogan's.  Sydney let out a small sigh at the thought of Sark.  She hadn't seen him, not for a very long time.  She missed him.  She still loved him.  And he loved her.  Unfortunately, the planets never aligned for them to stay together.  He was traipsing around the globe, researching The Covenant, trying to find out if it had disbanded.  She was in Los Angeles, doing mostly desk work for the CIA, and playing with her lively three year old boy.  Unfortunately, Los Angeles was rarely a stop for Sark's travels.  She heard from him once every month, with vague details of his whereabouts and his missions.  He never really told her anything and she never really told him anything.  It was more of the need to hear her voice that had driven him to call her and it was her need to hear his that kept them on the phone line.  Sydney heard a scream from the slide and she turned quickly to find Rogan sliding down with a look of bliss on his face.  If she could be three again, without the worries of taking care of her son, or the responsibilities of being an adult and knowing her mother was evil.  Simpler days. 

"You looked scared.  Afraid someone was coming to take him?"

Sydney whirled around at the familiar voice, and found herself face to face with Sark.

"You're-here!"

"If you're still worried about someone taking him, why are you sending him to preschool?  You can't have guards there nor can you supervise him."

"He's three.  Three-year-olds go to preschool."

"Three-year-olds don't typically have a world-wide terrorist organization after them."

"Since Sloane died, Rogan hasn't either."

"You're burying your head in the sand if you think The Covenant isn't still after Rogan."

"The Covenant hasn't made a move towards me or Rogan since Sloane died.  The Covenant has disbanded."

"Or gone into hiding."

Sydney folded her arms and sighed loudly, showing her displeasure.

"It's lovely seeing you again, Sark."

Sark hesitated for a moment as he considered what she had said.  He let a small smile appear on his face.  He had jumped into the conversation about Rogan and preschool without giving Sydney a simple kiss.  He hadn't seen her in a year and a half and he hadn't kissed her the second he saw her.  He had a great amount of self-control and that only proved it.  Besides, he wasn't even sure if Sydney still loved him.  He hadn't seen her in so long.  She might have grown tired of being separated from him.  He had. 

"Indeed."

She grunted unbecomingly, an indication of how much she hated that word.  He used it often around her, typically when he didn't want to become too emotional with her.  Unfortunately, it made Sydney annoyed when he used it.  Sark glanced back at the playground equipment, trying to remember day when he had played on such things as a child.  He'd never really been one to play games, even when he had been with his mother.  He'd been an intellectual child-one who'd rather read than play on a swing.  He must have been three or four the last time he'd been to a playground.  Rogan was running towards them, a huge childish grin on his face.

"Mommy, Mommy, didja see?"

She bent down, offering her arms to her son.  He ran into them excitedly as she asked, "Did I see what?"

"I went down with my head."

Sydney raised an eyebrow and leaned forward while clarifying his comment.

"You went down head first?"

"Mhm!"

"That's dangerous."

"He has a bit of his mother in him, then."  Sark said it quietly, though he was making more of an observation than starting a conversation.  The boy stared at him once he realized Sark was there and studied him.  Rogan's eyes were haunting as he stared intently, to the point that Sark was becoming uncomfortable.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Mr. Sark."

"I 'member you from a long time ago."

"You were an infant the last time I saw you."

"Mommy talks about you lots when she sleeps."

Sark smiled this time, freely with a cocked eyebrow and a curious look on his face.

"Does she now?"

"Yep."

Sark ruffled the boy's hair and let the feeling of normalcy wash over him.  He couldn't let it last long, he'd become attached to being near Sydney and Rogan.  He couldn't let others see him with them.  They would be suspicious and things could happen.

"I must leave.  I simply wished to discuss Rogan's schooling with you."

"He's going to pre-school."  
"I find that less than satisfactory, but I won't be able to change your mind.  Don't expect me to rescue him when he needs it."

"I'd never presume to ask you for help, Sark."

Her comment stabbed him like a knife but he resisted reaction.  He allowed himself to drink Sydney in one more moment before he turned away.

"Until next time, Sydney."

"Next time?"

"Believe."

Sark strode away without looking back.  If he did, he wouldn't want to leave.  Of course, Sydney didn't realize that.  She simply took it as indifference.  She watched him walk away from her without a kiss or hug or even a touch.  Apparently Sark didn't love her much anymore.  Maybe he'd found someone else.  Or maybe the separation was too much for him to take.  Or maybe he didn't want attachments.  They were dangerous in their line of work.  Sydney took Rogan's hand and squeezed it, trying her best to get her mind off of Sark. 

"I think it's time to go home now, sweetie."

"Okay, Mommy."  He smiled at her innocently and Sydney allowed herself to feel relieved.  Rogan always cheered her up.

            Sark sauntered into Irina's French style house in Quebec.  Irina had moved out of her Buenos Aires mansion after her affiliation with The Covenant became common knowledge.  She had a slight fear that Jack would send someone to kill her if she remained there, so she moved out of that property and didn't return to any of the properties Jack was aware she owned.  Luckily, the house in Canada continued to be an excellent hiding spot for her.  Most people didn't know of that house, only a handful of Irina's most trusted knew about it.  Fortunately, Sark was one of those people. 

"Irina?"  His voice was impatient and frustrated as he searched the house for his former mentor.  She wasn't anywhere to be found, which meant she must have seen him coming.  He was fairly good at concealing himself, but Irina could always find him.  Perhaps because she trained him.  Irina was probably afraid he was after her again for betraying Sydney.  Actually, he wanted to discuss Sydney with her, but not the betrayal.  Sark finally opened the French doors to the balcony and found Irina there, staring over the stone railing. 

"Hope you don't plan to jump, Irina.  It'd be tragic."

"Tragic for whom, Julian?"

"I never pictured you for the suicidal type.  I always thought it was a sign of weakness and I assumed you felt the same."

"I'm not suicidal, darling boy, I'm simply admiring the scenery."

Sark joined her at the rail silently, as he viewed the small town below him.  Small towns were interesting to him.  Everyone felt like they were part of something, they were a combined machine in their minds.  They never felt the isolation he did.  He envied that.  He felt like he was lording over them, though, perched high on a hill that overlooked them.  They were almost like peasants on a vassal of land from the Middle Ages.  Even if he was lording over them, they had something he didn't.  Meaning.

"They remind me of ants in an ant farm.  Each caught up in their task of the day."

"Aren't we all?"

"Yes, but some tasks are meaningless.  Our task isn't." Irina reminded him.

"Rambaldi's become somewhat obsolete since you helped me change destiny."

"Did I?"

Sark turned sharply, no longer feeling the peace he had previously.  Every word Irina spoke was a clue to something and those two words set off warning bells in his head.

"The Prophecy said Sloane would kill Sydney for the Passenger.  Obviously, that didn't happen."

An ironic smile appeared on Irina's face as she gripped the stone in front of her.   Sark had a sinking feeling he'd been used again, for Irina's purposes.  He hated that feeling of being deceived when he was with Irina.  It typically meant consequences he'd never expected on the way since Irina had kept him in the dark.

"What did you do, Irina?"

He wanted to throttle her and throw her over the balcony, but he knew that would get him nowhere.

"What do you mean?"  
"Don't play innocent, Irina.  It has never served you well, because everyone knows better."

"I did absolutely nothing, Julian.  Don't start with crazy accusations.  I did nothing."

She repeated, then changed the subject suddenly.  "Speaking of my daughter, have you seen her lately?"

Sark glanced at Irina, wondering if she decided to sic her dogs on him.  He was good at detecting surveillance, but Irina always hired the best. 

"Why?"

"Just wondering how she and my grandson were."

Sark didn't answer her as the feeling of regret crept up inside of him.  He shouldn't have come to see Irina.  She wouldn't answer his questions about The Covenant.  He knew that.  Why he had come to Irina was beyond him.  He wanted to know if The Covenant had disbanded, or if they had found away from that pesky Prophecy of Sloane killing Sydney for the Passenger.  Now he wondered if that was the Prophecy at all.  He'd never really known the truth about Rambaldi, just what Irina had told him.  Had she left parts out?  He wouldn't put it past her.  She could have even molded the Prophecy to fit her wishes.  Irina Derevko would do something like that.

"I have to leave."  
"So soon?  You just got here."

"Yes.  I have some business to attend to.  I wanted to touch base with you, Irina.  Until another time."

He leaned in to kiss her cheek dutifully before leaving her on the balcony.  She was smiling again.  A different smile.  On that told Sark he couldn't trust Irina anymore.  What had Irina done?  And what had he done by trusting her intel?


	2. Council

**_Believe_**

**_Chapter Two_**

**_Council_**

            Sydney stood outside the preschool building, Sark's warning ringing in her head repeatedly.  Rogan stood next to her, bouncing excitedly at the prospect of entering the building before him.  He'd never really gotten a chance to play with kids his own age.  It had always been him and Sydney and sometimes Eric or Jack.  He did get to see Mitchell sometimes, but Mitchell was an odd child and younger than him anyway.  Sydney had told him it was genetic.  So he was finally going to be able to play with people his own age.  Sydney gripped her son's hand while she came to grips with the realization that she had to let him go in.  She couldn't coddle Rogan.  He was an incredibly bright little boy and he deserved to have friends and be normal.  Even if his conception and birth weren't.  Sydney finally walked him inside and he became immediately fascinated by everything in the room.  There were toys and games and a lot of kids playing games.  He started to run to a group of kids, but Sydney held him back.

"Rogan, I want you to be careful."  
"I will, Mommy."

"Don't talk to any strange adults.  And never go with them."  
"Don't talk to strangers.  I know."  
"You're a friendly little boy.  You have to be careful."

"I will."

"If someone tries to take you away from here, I want you to scream bloody murder."  
" 'kay."

Sydney took his face in her hands and kissed his forehead.

"I love you, baby."

"Love you, Mommy."  Rogan pulled away from her and ran to a group of children playing.  He waited for them to acknowledge him instead of saying hi first.  And of course they did, because Rogan wasn't the type to go by unnoticed.  Sydney watched him for a moment, unwilling to leave.  A woman came over to her, her face sympathetic.

"He's your first one, isn't he?"

"Yes.  How did you know?"  
"First time moms never want to leave.  I'm Delainia Ambrose, the teacher."

"Oh.  You must think I'm very dumb, I just worry about Rogan."  
"Rogan Bristow?  We were waiting for you both to get here.  Don't worry about him."

As if on cue, her pager beeped.  She checked the number and saw Dixon's flashing on her screen.  Her heart dropped for a moment.  Dixon never paged her, not anymore.  She wasn't a field agent anymore, not really.  There had to be a reason for him to page her and it couldn't be a good one. 

"Work calls."  
"Where do you work?"

"State Department."

"Ahhh, that must be an interesting job."

"Yes, it does get interesting sometimes.  Before I leave, Rogan isn't allowed to leave with anyone besides my father, Jack Bristow and me.  No one else."

"Have no worries, Ms. Bristow.  I'll keep an eye on your son."

Sydney smiled warmly, but her heart wasn't really into it.  She waved goodbye to Rogan and left the preschool, leaving Delainia Ambrose behind.  Delainia rolled her eyes.  Parents.  They acted like their children were in imminent danger all the time.

            Sark strode in the room confidently.  He was dressed impeccably in an Armani suit and looked ready to kill.  In fact, he was.  He stopped at the front desk where a blond secretary sat.  Sark placed his most charming smile on his face and leaned forward.

"Is McKennas Cole in?"

"Do you have an appointment?"  She asked dutifully.

"No, I don't.  But when he finds out I'm here, I'm sure he'll want to see me."  
"And who are you?"

"Mr. Sark."  
"Mr. Sark?  That's an odd name."  
"Indeed.  Now is Mr. Cole in?"

"Not at the moment, Mr. Sark.  If you want to wait, he'll be back to this office in approximately an hour."

"I'll wait in his office."  
"Oh, Mr. Cole wouldn't like that a bit.  You'll have to stay out here in the waiting room."  
"I'm afraid I can't do that.  It would ruin the surprise."  
"It's a surprise?"

"Oh, he has no idea I'm coming."  A small smirk appeared on his face, imagining the look on Cole's face when he saw Sark.  Sark detested the man.  He was crass and overly confident and Sark had the feeling he had replaced Sloane in the Council.  Rambaldi had to have three sides to his Council, three to the symbol he was so fond of.  He'd discovered the symbolism of it, the Council reflected twice around a circle of life.  They were in charge of Rambaldi's prophecy, the destiny of the Chosen One and the Passenger, each player's life.  Sark had hoped the Council would be gone after Sloane's murder, as would The Covenant.  If the Council disbanded The Covenant would too.  But he wasn't so sure he had changed the prophecy of The Passenger.  Not since he'd spoken with Irina.  That woman had the special ability of being able to get under his skin.  He hated that she could do that, but it must be genetic, since Sydney had that same ability.  If he hadn't changed the Prophecy, The Covenant and Council wouldn't have disbanded.  And he didn't think it had.  Irina held the highest position, the tip of the Rambaldi triangle and she seemed to believe very much in Rambaldi's greatness which only served to worry him more.

"Well, I guess it would be all right.  Since it's supposed to be a surprise."  
"It is."

Sark walked on back to the office with another flirtatious smile to the secretary before taking a seat in Cole's designer leather chairs.  As much as he despised Cole, he did have good taste in furniture.

            Sydney hurried into the Operations Center.  It had taken her forever and a day to get there from the preschool and the whole time the curiosity was gnawing away at her insides.  Why would Dixon page her?  Something had to be seriously wrong and she was desperate to find out what it was.  Dixon was waiting for her in the center, not even hiding away in his office like usual.  Something really was up.  He ushered her into the conference room where Jack, Vaughn, Lauren, Weiss, and Marshall sat already.

"Sorry it took me so long to get here.  I was taking Rogan to preschool.  It was his first day."

Marshall perked up and leaned forward, "I've been trying to get Carrie to let Mitchell go to preschool.  He should be able to use his talents, you know, impress all the kids with how smart he is, but she won't let him go.  Maybe if I tell her you let Rogan go it'll work."

Dixon cut into the parental bonding moment with a serious tone, "I hate to interrupt this, but the meeting is about The Covenant and we need to get a move on."

Sydney stopped in her tracks at the mention of The Covenant.  She hadn't heard about them for almost a year and a half from the CIA.  The Covenant had basically dropped off the face of the earth as far as the intelligence world was concerned.  Dixon mentioning it was serious.  The Covenant plagued Sydney's thoughts daily, but they did not plague Dixon's.

"What about The Covenant, Dixon?"

"Go ahead and sit down, Syd.  All right, after Sloane's death by the hands of Sark The Covenant seemed to have just vanished.  Rambaldi's followers seemed to have lost interest in his prophecies and useless machines and Sydney mentioned it was because the Council had broken up.  Since Sloane's death, there was an opening in the Council.  McKennas Cole had resurfaced only months before Sloane's death so we've been keeping an eye on him.  He seemed likely to fill the position, since he was fairly high up in the organization. 

"The only remaining members of the Council were Bomani and Irina Derevko.  Derevko has been missing for several years; so we haven't been able to watch her.  We have been able to keep surveillance on Bomani, though.  Yesterday, he was murdered."

"Yesterday?  Why am I only hearing about this today?"  Sydney's amber eyes flashed protectively.  Everything having to do with The Covenant was top priority for her.  She needed to know if Rogan was in immediate danger and she needed to know it instantaneously.  Finding out about Bomani's death a day late was not acceptable to her.  She sighed, waiting for Dixon's answer as her mind traveled to Sark's visit.  Was that why he'd come?  Did he know about Bomani's death and that was why he had warned her about leaving Rogan in day care? 

"We thought it would be best if we had all the information before we involved you, Sydney."

"We?"

"Your father and I."

Sydney rolled her eyes and glared at her father.  He was always trying to protect her from things she didn't need protecting from. 

"Why do you think Bomani's death is such an imminent threat?"

"We're worried that his death means someone else was trying to get in on the Council.  Which means the Council is still very much alive as is The Covenant."

"So they've just been waiting for an opportunity to take Rogan."

"Or maybe they're just biding their time as the insane Rambaldi Prophecy is fulfilled."

"No.  Sark said that Irina told him I was to die according to The Prophecy.  After the Chosen One has fulfilled her duty she would be murdered by the Harbinger or some crap like that."

"Think of your sources, Sydney.  I know you trust Mr. Sark for some reason, but he did get the information from Irina.  Who is part of the Council.  Maybe she fed him a line or maybe he fed you one."  
"Oh, no.  This has nothing to do with Sark and me, Dixon.  This is about The Covenant."  
"Which Sark could be a part of. You don't really know, do you?"

"I do.  Sark wouldn't be a part of The Covenant.  He's been fighting them since the moment he escaped CIA custody.  Almost two years ago."

"All the same, Sydney, I'd watch who you'd trust."

Sydney narrowed her eyes, feeling like she was being attacked by Dixon.  Her former partner and recent uptight boss. 

"The real reason we called you in here, Sydney-" Jack said, cutting into the glaring contest Dixon and Sydney seemed to have gotten themselves into, "is we'll need you to return to being a field agent again.  You'll have to help go in undercover with The Covenant, maybe try to squeeze information from Sark."  
"I haven't talked to Sark in awhile, not really."

"I was under the impression he calls to check in with you."  
"Not hardly."

Jack let it go, knowing she was lying.  If she didn't want everyone to know about her phone calls with Sark, it was her prerogative.

"So you will become a field agent again?"

"Of course.  I'll do anything to rid myself of The Covenant.  I feel like I'm looking over my shoulder and that's even when I think I'm safe.  I'm back."

"Wonderful.  We have a mission for you now, in fact."  Dixon said, taking control of the meeting once more.

"Sign me up, then."

            McKennas Cole entered his office, whistling a tune.  Bomani had been found dead yesterday morning, so everything was going according to plan.  Irina would be pleased as well.  He saw a blond head peeking up from his leather chairs, a sign that Sark had shown up.  Irina had said he would. 

"Mr. Sark, delightful to see you.  I like the change in your hair again.  You're just that kind of man that looks good with any kind of hair."

Sark stared at him for a moment, seeming a little off kilter.  Sark must have been depending on that element of surprise or maybe he just didn't like people talking about his hair.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, Mr. Sark, though I can't say I'm sorry."

"I'm not uncomfortable, Mr. Cole.  I am curious, however.  How did you know I was here?"  
"I've been expecting you."  Cole walked to the tray of drinks displayed on a bureau in the office.  He poured a couple of glasses of scotch and offered one to Sark.  Sark sniffed it and studied it intently before taking a sip of the amber liquid.  McKennas, however, took several long gulps and emptied the glass immediately.  
"Why?"  
"Oh, don't be so suspicious, Julian.  Bomani's dead and of course you'd come to me for answers."  
"Well, McKennas-" Sark drawled his name out deliberately.  He hated it when people called him Julian, unless it was Sydney and occasionally Irina could get away with it.  But for Cole to have the audacity irked him.

"I'm glad I did not disappoint you.  Since you brought Bomani up, you wouldn't know anything about his death, would you?"

"Well, yes.  I hired someone to kill him.  Point blank in the head, might I add.  I never really got into the whole killing people thing.  I prefer torture.  So I send people to do my killing for me."  
"I never expected you to admit to it so easily."  
"Aw, were you hoping to torture me?  I do hate disappointing people when it comes to torture."

"Why did you kill Bomani?"  Sark tried to get the conversation back on track.  McKennas Cole was an odd man.  He seemed so cheerful and friendly, but of course, that probably made him all the more dangerous.  Cole was sicker than he was.

"To make room for you in the Council, naturally."

Sark almost choked on his drink, but was able to keep his game face on. 

"Room for me?"

McKennas smiled smoothly and shrugged before taking his own chair behind his desk.


	3. Entry

**_Believe_**

**_Chapter Three_**

**_Entry_**

****

****

            Sark sat in stunned silence, trying desperately to mask his shock as he processed what Cole had said.  What exactly was Irina trying to pull?  Inviting him to join the Council was very possibly why she was playing coy in Quebec and he'd been an idiot for not knowing what was happening.  Of course Irina was behind the Bomani hit.  She was always behind the hits.  She was bloody ubiquitous. 

"What makes you believe I would want a position on the Council?"

McKennas smiled obnoxiously as he spun casually in his desk chair.  He was so self-assured and Sark was feeling less than so, which was not acceptable to him.  He was the one who always held the upper hand, and right now Cole had the advantage. 

"Rambaldi called it, actually.  You know he's never wrong."

"Except for when he predicted Sydney's untimely demise.  She's very much alive…"

"Last time you checked."

Something dangerous flashed in Sark's crystal blue irises, sudden panic filling him at leaving Sydney wide open for a hit.  Cole laughed unexpectedly, causing Sark to reach for his gun. 

"I'm just messin' wit ya, man.  Sydney's alive right now.  But you should have seen your face."

Sark relaxed a bit, but he kept his facial features cold and warning.

"I'm not here for my jollies, Cole."

"You came to find out if I killed Bomani.  And you did.  But here you remain because you know you want a piece of the action."

"What exactly did Rambaldi's prophecy say?"

Sark was typically exceptional at keeping his curiosity in check.  Still, he had never been able to fully give up on Rambaldi and his work.  He'd poured too much of his valuable time and energy into Rambaldi to believe he'd been wrong about everything.  Cole smiled psychotically. 

"You know better than to ask me that, Sark.  I can't divulge that information."

"If I become a part of the Council.  I would be given access to every Rambaldi secret."

"In due time.  Of course, Irina wants you to be a part of the Three, but that doesn't mean she trusts you."

"I don't trust either of you.  Why would she trust me?"

"So you are seeing things our way.  I'm glad.  Irina was worried it would be hard to convince you to join.  She feared your attachment to her daughter would be a hindrance.  Ah, the power of Rambaldi."

"I never said I would join, Mr. Cole, so don't jump ahead of me."  
"You'll join."  
"The eternal optimist?"

"More like the intelligent charmer, though I'm sure you thought that was your talent."

"It is my talent, Mr. Cole."

The two fell into a deep silence.  Cole leaned forward, his hands clasped into a teepee.

"I'm not surprised you have a thing for Sydney.  I had a thing for Pigtails way back when I worked at SD-6.  She had that whole school girl look working for her."

Sark's posture went rigid, but he resisted the urge to punch the crass man. 

"I'll join, if I'm given full access to the Rambaldi documents."

"That will be the first thing you're given, Sark.  I think it'll be great bein' partners, don't you?"

"It will be delightful."

"I just need you to sign this document."  
"What is it?"

"Something of a swearing in."

"What language is this in?"

"An archaic language Rambaldi enjoyed using.  It's just saying you'll honor the code of Rambaldi, blah blah blah."

Sark took the pen offered to him and signed it quickly, trying not to think about Sydney.  He couldn't.  If he did, his conscience that had mysteriously shown up when he'd grown closer to Sydney might mess the whole thing up.  Sark returned the pen to Cole who offered him a huge grin.

"Welcome to the Council, bro.  Irina will go wild when she hears that you joined.  We'll call you when we're going to convene."

Sark stood, straightening his designer suit.  "It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Cole."  
"Yes, well, hopefully you'll be less formal when we meet next.  It's kind of annoying."

Sark bit his lip.  Annoying?  Like Cole was one to talk about that.  Sark stepped out of the office, never fully turning his back.  He didn't trust Cole.  He never would.

            Sydney walked up to the preschool building.  She had been adamant about not leaving without telling Rogan good-bye.  She wanted to make sure he would be okay with her leaving, since she'd never been away from him for an extended length of time since she and Sark had taken him back.  She wanted to tell him good-bye and to be extra careful while she was away.  Her dad would be there to protect Rogan, but that still wasn't enough to ease her mind.  She had the feeling it was a mother thing.  She opened the door and saw the look the teacher gave her.  Little did the teacher know that Sydney had a reason to be an overprotective parent.  Rogan saw her immediately and ran to Sydney with his arms open.

"Mommy!"

"Hey, baby.  Are you having a good day?"

"Mhm.  I have a friend.  Her name is Dah-Dahlia."

Sydney smiled as Rogan stumbled over his friend's name, who seemed to be looking in their direction as he spoke.

"That's wonderful, Rogan.  Listen, I have to leave town for a little bit.  I have to go on a trip."  
"Do I get to come?"

"No, baby, this is a special trip just for me.  You'll stay here and keep coming to school."

"Can I stay with Eric?"

"Why do you want to stay with Eric?"

"He's fun…He plays with me."

"Eric is coming on this trip with me.  You're staying with Grandpa."

Rogan's face fell a bit.  Sydney knew Rogan liked Jack, but she had to admit Eric was a lot more fun than her father.  Jack was still a little stiff, even if he was completely different with Rogan than what he'd been when she was a little girl. 

"Mommy, if it's a special trip just for you, why does Eric get to go with you?"

Sydney smiled and ruffled his hair.

"You're my bright boy, aren't you?  Well, it's because it's a special adult trip.  It'll be boring since it's for grown ups only."

"But I have to stay with Grandpa."

"You'll have fun, Rogue, I promise.  I just wanted to tell you good bye and to be a good boy."  
"I'm always a good boy."  He offered her a childish smirk that made Sydney want to laugh and kiss him at the same time.

"Yes, well, it makes me feel better to tell you to be good.  You'll be okay without me?"  
"Yep."

"I love you, Rogan."

"I love you Mommy."  He kissed her cheek and then turned and ran to who Sydney assumed was Dahlia.  Sydney sighed and waved to Ms. Ambrose before she left.

            Weiss and Vaughn were already on the plane when Sydney arrived at the tarmac.  Her phone vibrated as she boarded the plane, so she answered it.

"Bristow."

"Understanding is everything."

The line was disconnected before Sydney had a chance to react.  It had sounded like Sark, but she couldn't be sure.  What did that mean anyway?  Understanding was everything.  She certainly didn't understand the random quote.  She sat down next to Weiss slightly perplexed, which didn't go unnoticed by the other two.  Weiss leaned forward.

"Worried about leaving the Rogue-Man behind?"

Sydney shrugged before letting her shoulders slump.  She was leaving Rogan to ensure his safety and his future.  She knew Rogan would be all right with her father, plus Rogan was making new friends his own age.  That's what she wanted. 

"Not exactly.  My dad can protect him if The Covenant comes after him."

"If The Covenant is even still around.  The CIA is just making assumptions.  We could be wrong.  We are often enough."  Weiss comforted.

Sydney laughed lightly at his joke.  Weiss could always cheer her up just by something dumb he'd say.  Weiss smiled at her and Sydney relaxed a bit.

"It's the phone call I just got.  All they said was 'understanding is everything' and then they hung up on me.  What does that mean?"

"They like vowels?"

"What?"  Vaughn and Sydney asked in unison.  Weiss grinned boyishly, "UIE.  All vowels.  Never mind.  You guys are a tough crowd tonight."

Sydney rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, her displeasure and worry showing clearly.  She sighed loudly.

"My cell phone number isn't exactly broadcast around the world.  I know there are ways to get them, but I have all kinds of filters and blocks up to protect my phone and it's records."

"So it's not just what they said on the phone, it's that they had your number." Vaughn clarified.

"Yeah."

"Because it could be someone you know."

"It could be."  
"Like Sark?"  
"No.  Sark wouldn't just leave cryptic tidbits for me and hang up."

As soon as she said it, she realized how unrealistic that sentence had been.  Sark was exactly the type of person that would leave cryptic tidbits for her to mull over for days.  He had her phone number, as well.  She met Vaughn's eyes, but quickly disconnected their gaze.

"It wasn't Sark."  
"You're positive?" Vaughn asked again.

"Yes."

But she wasn't and all three of them were well aware of that fact.  Weiss patted Sydney's arm before handing her a file as if he we were trying to smoothly change the subject for Sydney's benefit.

"This will explain our mission."

Sydney glanced down at the file wondering if she would be able to focus on it.  If Sark was leaving her enigmatic pieces to a puzzle, something was definitely up.  And she'd have to start putting those pieces together for whatever message he was trying to send her if he were trying to warn her of something.  Or if he were just trying to confuse her to keep her off track.  She trusted Sark, but she could never be truly sure of his intentions.  Especially if Rambaldi were concerned, which was very possible since The Covenant seemed to still be around.  She wanted to believe Sark would protect her, but she couldn't always believe in that.  She couldn't always believe in him.  Sydney sighed again as she opened the folder.  Well, on the upside, it could be a completely different person.  Someone who didn't even know Sark.  Someone could have hacked into her records and gotten her cell phone number and was sending her a message.  She would have to keep an open mind.  And a vigilant watch.  Because she would never be sure.


	4. Missing

**_Believe_**

**_Chapter Four_**

**_Missing_**

****

            Sydney placed her long black hair into a sheet that covered most of her face.  She couldn't be recognized by the security cameras.  She and Weiss were going to be searching McKenas Cole's office while he was at the 21 Club in downtown Lima.  Vaughn was going to watch him while the other two searched for any kind of papers or anything that would link him to Bomani's death.  If they found what they wanted, they could pick Cole up and take him into CIA custody.  But if the security cameras caught her in Cole's office, that could be the end of the whole mission.  Now if she were a Peruvian janitor caught on camera; that was a whole other story.  She glanced up at Weiss who wore the same blue jumpsuit she did.  She smiled at the sight of the two of them wearing identical costumes.

"You ready for this?"  
"Si, Senorita."

Sydney rolled her eyes and handed him a large mop and bucket.  "Why don't you start mopping the floor, buddy."

"As soon as you start washing the windows."

Sydney chuckled as they entered Cole's office area.  She kept her head low, as if she were fascinated by the basket of cleaning supplies she held in her hand.  Weiss had his own head down, pushing the bucket and mop on into the office.  As soon as they shut the door, they let the supplies go and began the search.  Sydney took a deep breath, the scent in the air quite familiar.  It smelled like Sark's cologne.  She would recognize that scent anywhere.  He always wore this overpriced fragrance that was made especially for him in Paris.  Now for him, that was completely normal, particularly since he had the 799 million dollars he held in gold bullion.    And it was always specific to him, one of the ways his presence would be announced.  She bit her lip, denying the thought of Sark being in Cole's office.  He wouldn't have been here.  She walked to the computer left sitting on the table.  She began her search of the hard drive's contents and found that the security tape streamed to the computer.  She downloaded the last week's surveillance and popped the disk out of the computer.  She found Weiss buried in several files in the filing cabinet.

"Did you find anything?'  
"Nothing incriminating.  A file on you, a file on Sark, a file on Rogan, a file on me and Vaughn and your father and a select few at the CIA.  Nothing that is really illegal.  Just information."

"He has information on my son?"  
"His age, vital stats, the name of his school, that kind of thing. Doesn't even mention The Passenger."  
"No.  He wouldn't leave a paper trail.  Even if he did, my mother would clean it up.  That's what she does."

Weiss made copies of the files he'd found, not that they would really help.  But just in case they weren't seeing something that someone else might pick up on.  Sydney took one more survey of the room.

"It's weird."  
"What is?"

"That he doesn't have a safe or anything.  I would think that a guy like him would have a safe in his office."

"To hide all of his illegal things?"  
"Yeah.  I don't know.  Nothing in here looks like a safe.  In fact, his office is hardly even decorated on the walls.  I find that even more odd.  McKenas Cole is one of those extravagant men who have a need to display old tribal masks and shrunken heads."

"Shrunken heads?'

"Well, you get the idea.  It's like he's going overboard to prove he doesn't have any secret safe.  Like if the place got broken into, people would look on the walls for a safe."

"So you think that the safe could be somewhere else."  
"Yeah.  Like, in the floor maybe. Under one of these expensive leather chairs."

Weiss sighed and got down on his knees and began to feel around the area.  There was a rug underneath two chairs and the desk, so he rolled the rug up.  He smiled triumphantly as he pushed the two chairs out of the way.  There was an electronically protected safe set in the center of the floor.

"Now I know why you're a superspy."  
"Aww, I'm blushing, Weiss."

"Can you hand me the watch Marshall gave you?  It's supposed to bypass any electrical coding system we ran into.  It should open the safe."

Sydney slipped the silver watch off and handed it carefully to Weiss.  While Weiss attached the watch to the keypad, Sydney contacted Vaughn through their comm. links.

"Everything okay on your end, Vaughn?"

"Just lovely.  I'm drinking champagne and watching McKenas Cole hit on women who want nothing to do with him.  It's fun."

"A little mean, but it's probably better than a soap opera."

"I'm sure Dixon will be ecstatic to know what time off has done for you and that you're now associating spying with soaps."

Sydney laughed quietly as she turned to see how Weiss had progressed.  The safe was open and a firebox stared back at him.  Weiss removed it carefully and scanned it for any kind of traps. 

"Weiss found a firebox.  Stand by, Vaughn."

"Standing."

Sydney knelt next to Weiss and handed him her duster.  He removed the feather part to find a lock pick.  He picked it open and slid the top off.  They looked in, hoping for the best and found the worst.

"Nothing.  There's nothing here.  He must have taken it with him."  
"Vaughn!  He may have something with him that could be incriminating.  Watch for a dead drop or a meet.  Anything."

"Watching."

Sydney sighed loudly, disappointment rushing over her.  She had hoped to find whatever she needed tonight, the proof that The Covenant still existed, evidence that they were or were not after Rogan.  Weiss grasped her hand and squeezed it, understanding her dissatisfaction at what they hadn't found.  Weiss cared for Rogan.  Weiss was like Rogan's naughty uncle, almost. 

"We need to get out of here, Syd."

"All right."

Weiss put everything back into its place and handed Sydney her feather duster.  She put it back in her basket of cleaning supplies as Weiss took the mop and bucket back into his hands.  They walked out of the office and headed to the extraction point.

            Sark was feeling out of sorts.  He hadn't had much sleep in the last 48 hours.  Switching from Peruvian time to Los Angeles time was bad enough.  It would be night there and it was early in the morning here.  Plus the fact he had gone from Montreal to Peru, so his days were quite mixed up.  He would deal with it, though.  And after he met with the contact he'd been assigned to, he would catch up on all the missing time zones from his psyche.  Irina's phone call had been a surprise.  He had been expecting a phone call from McKenas Cole to inform him of the whereabouts of the Council's meeting.  Instead, Irina had called him and told him to fly back to Los Angeles immediately.  He had to admit, following Irina's word unquestioningly was annoying.  He had left that behind so many years ago, but here he was doing it again.  He enjoyed being independent.  He'd always been freelance, but freelance and independence were two completely different things.  Freelance meant he was still doing the bidding of another.  Independence meant that he was doing his own bidding.  Still, the pull of Rambaldi had been far too strong to resist joining The Council.  The secrets he could uncover, the truths he could be told.  He would be a major player in the Rambaldi game and that was important.  And he would be able to find out what Sydney's role in Rambaldi's play was.  He would take the package back to Irina and Cole in Sicily and find all of that out in one simple meeting.  Sark tried to contain his excitement.  He had to put on his professional face, though it was hard being this close to Sydney, yet so far away from her.  She couldn't know he was in the city, but all he wanted to do was stop by her house and envelope her in arms and kiss her hard.  Of course, that wasn't an option.  He wouldn't be able to see Sydney again, not until this was all over.  He straightened his jacket as he neared the bookstore he was to meet that contact at.  He needed to get his head in the game before meeting the contact.  He walked inside the store and found the children's section.  He scanned over the titles, Curious George, Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day, Chicka-Chicka Boom-Boom.  A whole slew of titles that he wondered if Rogan would like to read them, if he was even reading yet.  He ran his fingers over the bindings and jumped when he heard the voice.

"Mr. Sark, it's an honor to meet you."  
"And you are…"  
"Black Dove.  Really, I'm Delainia Ambrose."

"Lovely, Miss Ambrose.  I am to pick up a package from you."  
"Well, I hope they didn't expect me to wrap him."

She glanced over at the beanbag chair where Rogan sat, absorbing Where the Wild Things Are.  Sark's face nearly lost its expert nonchalant look.  He hadn't been expecting Rogan to be his pick up.  He hadn't even been expecting a child.  Kidnapping Rogan was out of the question.  Sydney would have a heart attack and he couldn't do that to her, despite what it could mean for him.  Delainia watched him, sorry that her joke had gone over like a lead balloon.

"How did you take Bristow's child?" Sark asked abruptly.

Delainia smiled proudly.  "I was his pre-school teacher.  She started looking around for preschools and Irina had me placed in the one she chose.  The other teacher was unfortunately sent to the hospital only two days before Rogan began."

Sark's face hardened.  He had warned her not to send Rogan to pre-school.  He had told her it wasn't safe and she had ignored his warning.  It almost served her right to have Rogan taken from the preschool.  He glanced at Delainia, who seemed to be awaiting a congratulations or a 'job well done' from him.  He ignored her and walked to the beanbag chair.  He knelt down in front of Rogan and asked him gently, "Do you remember me?"

"Yep.  You're Mr. Sark, Mommy's fren."

"Yes, I am your mother's friend.  How would you like to go on a vacation, Rogan?"

"Like the vacation Mommy went on?"

"She went on a vacation?"  
"An 'dults-only one.  She said it was gonna be worse than not ever watching cartoons."

"Ah.  Well, the one we go on will be more fun."

"Can I have this book?"

"Yes.  Why don't you pick out a couple of others?"

"You're funner than Mommy.  She only lets me have one."  
"Yes, fun I am."

Rogan toddled off to find two more books while Sark turned quickly to Delainia.

"You understand the importance of this mission, do you not, Miss Ambrose?"

"I do, Mr. Sark."  
"When Miss Bristow finds that her son is missing, she will grill everyone, including you.  Will you be able to withstand that interrogation?"

"Yes, Mr. Sark."

"Then it was delightful doing business with you, Miss Ambrose."

Rogan was at his side again, clutching three books.  He raised them up so Sark could take them.

"You're such a bright boy, aren't you, Rogan?"

"You said that to me last time."  
"So very bright."

Sark ruffled his hair and Rogan took Sark's hand.  Sark glanced down, a little uncomfortable with the contact.  He wasn't used to such affection.  But he could get used to it, if he wasn't careful.  Rogan was a very winning child.  Kind of like his mother.

            Vaughn was watching Cole almost obsessively now.  He couldn't let Cole out of his sight.  The man seemed a little more fidgety than usual.  A tall, beautiful woman strolled into his area and sat down next to him on the couch.  Vaughn tried to move closer to hear what was being said, but the pounding music prevented it.  Cole removed a plastic tube from his coat and handed it to the woman.  She tossed her blond hair back and slipped the tube into her purse.  She gave Cole a kiss on the cheek and stood to leave.  Vaughn couldn't let that happen.  He moved in, hand ready to pull the gun, when someone grabbed his arm. 

"Dance with me?" She asked as she turned him to her.  He didn't recognize her and wondered briefly if it were just a diversion.  She moved sensuously with the music to distract him, but he jerked away from her.

"No." Vaughn turned back to the area where Cole had been sitting, but found both Cole and the woman gone.  Vaughn cursed quietly under his breath.  He'd lost Cole and the drop. 

            The CIA trio was in the air on the way back to Los Angeles.  Vaughn was telling them what he'd seen at the club and about the mysterious woman who had accepted the package. 

"I've never seen her. At least I don't think I have.  She may have been in disguise.  I never got a good enough look at her.  She was too far away.  Then, when that woman stopped me on the way to the couches, I-"  
Sydney's cell phone went off, breaking into Vaughn's story.  She smiled apologetically as she flipped the phone open.

"This is Bristow."

"Sydney.  I don't know how to explain this to you…"

"Dad?"

"Sydney, Rogan's gone."  
Sydney's heart dropped into her stomach.  She started shaking her head erratically as she unbuckled her seatbelt.  She stood and began to pace.

"What do you mean Rogan's gone?"  Her hands started to shake and she didn't know how to control it.  This couldn't really be happening.  She must have fallen asleep somewhere in the middle of Vaughn's story.  She pinched herself but found that there was no arousing from a deep slumber full of a mother's worst nightmare.

"I mean I left him at the preschool and at 9:30 this morning it was held hostage by men with guns.  Rogan was taken by a man, the teacher described him as about six feet with blond hair and blue eyes.  Sydney, the man sounded like Sark."

"No.  No.  No, no, no, no, no, nonononononononono."

She repeated the word as everything around her seemed to blur away, whether by tears or by another cause, she wasn't sure.  Before anyone knew what was happening, Sydney had dropped the phone and crumbled to the floor in what seemed like a fainting spell.  Weiss and Vaughn both jumped from their seats to rush to Sydney's side.  They tried to shake her awake, but she wouldn't respond.  Vaughn picked her up and took her to a row of airplane seats and stretched her out.  Weiss picked her phone up.

"Jack?"  
"Rogan was taken this morning at his preschool by armed men.  One seemed to be Sark, according to the description.  You know Sydney can be blind where Sark is involved.  I think it's shocked her, along with the stress of Rogan's kidnapping.  We'll talk more when you arrive at the Op Center, Weiss."

"Yes, Sir."

Weiss was ready to hang up the phone when he heard Jack's voice once more.

"Agent Weiss?"  
"Yes?"

"Take care of Sydney."

"I will, Sir."

Weiss hung the phone up and turned to Vaughn.  He glanced down at Sydney, who seemed to be wrought with pain.  He bit his lip, wishing there was something he could do.  There wasn't, except tell Vaughn what he knew.  Vaughn seemed to already assume the worst, so there would be no surprising him.  
"Rogan was taken.  This morning."

Vaughn sighed and looked down at Sydney.  He didn't know if she would be able to handle this.  Not after everything that has happened to her.  This could be her breaking point.


	5. Appearances

**_Believe_**

**_Chapter Five_**

**_Appearances_**

****

            Sark checked into the hotel Irina had made reservations at.  His alias was Stephan Hanson, 27-year-old investment banker, traveling to the Isle of Capris with his son, Rogan Hanson.  Rogan didn't seem to even understand what was happening, content to walk with Sark and hold onto his brand new books.  Rogan jumped on the full sized bed after dropping his small backpack that Sark had purchased for him.  Sark resisted the urge to scold him for jumping on the beds.  If that made Rogan happy, he would allow it.  Especially since he had kidnapped him.  Sark cursed the new conscience he seemed to have developed.  He liked to think it was because he had some kind of feelings for his mother, but he wasn't so sure if that was the only thing.  He wasn't going soft, though.

"Sark?"

Sark turned his attention on the small boy who had tired of bouncing on the mattress and ended up flopping into the overstuffed pillows. 

"Yes, Rogan?"

"Where is my mommy?"

"She's probably still on her vacation."

Rogan's lower lip protruded slightly, a pout that looked so much like his mother's.  Rogan seemed like the regular three-and-a-half year old boy.  Not at all like the object of some famous prophecies written by a fourteenth century genius that also happened to be his father.  Sark sat down on the side of the bed and Rogan crawled to him.  Sark tensed, hoping the boy wouldn't want to sit in his lap.  He didn't.  He just sat beside Sark, as if he realized the discomfort he provided Sark with.  He looked terribly sad and Sark recognized that look.  It was the same look he had had when his mother had moved them around so much and he'd ended up without any friends except for her. 

"Do you miss Sydney, Rogan?"

"Mhm.  She said she would come back fast, but how will she fin' me if I'm not at home?  Did you tell her?"

"No.  I didn't tell her.  But someone will tell her.  I'm sure."

"Promise?"

Sark paused.  He didn't usually promise.  Then again, most people didn't ask him for promises.  A small smile touched Sark's lips as he nodded.

"I promise."

Rogan seemed satisfied at that.  He watched Sark carefully, who seemed to be considering something deep.  He left Sark to his thoughts, being the perceptive boy he was.  Rogan recognized moods like that.  Sydney sometimes went through dark spells where she seemed to be wrapped up in her own little world.  He always knew when he should be an extra-good boy.

"Rogan, you're going to meet some new people soon."  
"Am I gonna get some new frien's?"

Sark seemed unsure of how to answer that.  They definitely weren't going to be his friends, but how was he supposed to explain that to him?

"Well…they both know your mother.  They've been wanting to meet you for a very long time, Rogan, because you're so special."  
"Mommy says I'm speshial.  Are they Mommy's friends?"

"Not exactly.  Listen, Rogan, I need you to obey me."  
"Okay."

"You need to be careful of those people.  Don't go anywhere with them, unless I'm with you.  Can you promise me you'll stay with me all the time?"  
"Mhm.  Mommy says don't go anywhere wif strangers."

"Yes, that is a good rule to follow.  Rogan, these people may tell you bad things about me, but don't pay them any heed.  And they may ask you some fairly odd questions and I won't make you answer them, unless I think you need to.  Do you understand?"

"What's heed?"

Sark realized he was talking more like he would regularly, than making sure a three-year-old would understand him.  Rogan was intelligent, but that didn't mean he knew the entire English dictionary.

"Don't pay any attention to them when they tell you about me.  They won't always be telling the truth."  
"Why would they lie?"

"Because they feel it's necessary at times."

Rogan seemed completely confused by this and Sark couldn't help but admire the child's innocence.  He was still so perfectly unmarred by the world and it's evils, evils that were found in his grandmother and Sark himself.  Sark knew that this would end up changing Rogan.  And he felt immensely guilty about it.  Innocence destroyed was impossibly hard for him to accept in one so young, but there was no way he could change it.  Rambaldi lived on in this child and it was almost in his genetic make-up to lose that innocence.  Rogan would survive.  He was a strong lad.

"Mr. Sark, didn't you hear me?"

"I'm afraid not.  I was philosophizing."  
"Feel-off-sizing?"  
Sark let a small chuckle emerge from his throat.  He ruffled Rogan's hair and shook his head.

"No.  I was philosophizing.  I was thinking."

"Feel-off-I-sizing."

"Close.  What did you say?"

"Will you tell me a story?"

Sark seemed taken aback by that request.  He could deal with any question except that.  He didn't invent stories.  He didn't have any idea what was appropriate for a child to hear.

"What kind of a story?"

"About you and Mommy.  Or you when you were little."

"When I was little?  I don't know if I even remember that."

Actually, he remembered.  He just tried not to.  But he looked down into Rogan's wide brown eyes and found that it was impossible to say no to him.

"When I was a young lad, I lived with my Mum.  We lived in Whitechapel, England…"

To a casual observer, the father adored the son and the son adored the father.  Of course, that wasn't true.  Because the man had kidnapped the child.  But who knew that?  Appearance was everything.

            Sydney was sure her eyes were open, but she couldn't seem to shake the fogginess in front of her.  Slowly, outlines started to darken into actual people.  She saw Weiss and Vaughn standing to the side worriedly, her father front and center, watching her in a bed.  How had she gotten to the bed?  The last thing she remembered was sitting on the plane, discussing McKenas Cole's disappearance from the 21 Club. 

"Dad?"  
"Sydney.  How are you feeling?"

She was surprised by his concern because he seemed truly just that.  Concerned.  Had she been injured?  Had the plane crashed?'  
"I'm fine.  Dad, what's wrong?"  
"You don't remember?"  He glanced back at Weiss and Vaughn and exchanged an apprehensive look.  It was hard to miss and it made Sydney try to focus harder on what had happened on the plane.  She remembered receiving a phone call.  It hit her suddenly, her father's words.

"Rogan?!  Have you found him?!  How long have I been out?  What happened to me?  How could you let Rogan get kidnapped?"

Jack tried to calm her down as the flood of questions escaped, but there wasn't a way to slow her down.  Once she remembered that her baby was gone, she couldn't do anything but ask questions.  She had so many.  So many questions and so many regrets.  If she had stayed home, Rogan would be safe.  She would have been able to protect Rogan from the men who took him.  She would have been there.

"We haven't gotten a location on Rogan yet, Sydney.  We're working on it.  I need you to tell me where Sark is."

Sydney jerked away from her father's gentle hand, sitting up with her knees under her chin.  
"I don't know where he is.  I haven't seen him in a while.  I haven't talked to him since-"  
She broke off as she remembered his words about sending Rogan to preschool.  Suddenly, all she could hear in her head was his warning, "_You're burying your head in the sand if you think The Covenant isn't still after Rogan._"  He had been right.  But was it because he had been involved?  Did he know what was going to happen and that was his subtle way of forewarning her? 

"Since when, Sydney?"  
"Since he killed Sloane.  He called me sometimes, but he never came to see me."

She hoped that her face looked innocent enough for her father to believe her.  Talking to her father was almost like being hooked up to an impossibly hard lie detector test.  He was studying her with his steely gray eyes, but Sydney refused to look away.  If she did, that would tell her father that she was lying.

"Why do you want to know where Sark is?"  
"He matches the description of the person who took Rogan from the preschool."

"Appearances can be deceiving, Dad.  A lot of people have blond hair and blue eyes."  
"And a lot of people have British accents as well.  But how many would go after Rogan?"  
"Sark wouldn't go after Rogan."  
"I refuse to blindly trust a known terrorist, liar, and killer, Sydney.  I'm a little concerned that you will."

"I'm not blindly trusting him.  I know Sark, more or less.  He wouldn't take Rogan from me.  I know it.  We spent too much time together a year and a half ago.  He helped me find out the truth of my past and he helped me save Rogan from Sloane.  I won't believe that he would take Rogan."

Jack stood up abruptly as an angry look flashed across his face.  Her usually stoic father was becoming emotionally involved.  She glanced over at Weiss and Vaughn who seemed to be on her father's side.  Weiss seemed more sympathetic to her case than Vaughn, but he didn't seem to believe her when she said that Sark wouldn't do that.

"You never answered me about how long I've been out.  Or what happened."  
Weiss took Jack's place at the edge of the bed and smiled gently.

"Almost a day.  You passed out after hearing the news about Rogan and then you were sedated.  You don't remember waking up?"

"When did I wake up?'  
"We had just landed.   You woke up, raving and combative.  We had to sedate you to calm you down.  You've been sleeping since then."

"You let me sleep away valuable time that I could be looking for my son."

"We let you sleep so you can find Rogan with good sense and a clear mind.  You can help us compile a list of possible suspects that could have taken Rogan."  
Hope filled Sydney.  Maybe she had misjudged Weiss' facial expression.  Maybe he was on her side completely.

"You don't think Sark did it either?"  
"I think we can look at all possible suspects.  I also think that if Sark has Rogan, he'll be safe for the moment.  Sark does care for you. I've seen it.  So I think he'll protect Rogan if he has him.  And if it was Sark, he may have had a good reason for taking him.  Maybe he heard that someone was going to try to take Rogan and beat them to it.  There are a hundred explanations, Sydney."

Sydney felt a little better at Weiss' comment.  Of course, Jack and Vaughn didn't agree with it.  
"Come on, man, you can't really believe that."

"Actually, Vaughn, I do believe that.  You never know-"

Sydney didn't hear Weiss speaking anymore.  She remembered when he left her at the playground how his last word had been, "_Believe."_  Was that his way of telling her to believe in him?  She remembered being so confused after he had said that.  What had he meant?  A small surge of hope hit her.  She would call Sark as soon as everyone left.  He would answer her questions.  He would.

"Why don't you all go on to the Operations Center.  I'm going to take a shower and get ready to go, and then I'll meet you there."

"All right."

Weiss squeezed her hand and walked on to the door.  Vaughn offered her a half-smile before following Weiss.  Jack came over to Sydney and kissed her head.

"We'll find Rogan.  Are you sure you will be all right here alone?"

"Yes, Dad.  I'll be fine.  Go on."

"Okay."

Sydney watched her father's retreating form before sinking back down into her bed.  She would call Sark soon.  Because her father couldn't possibly be right.  Could he?


	6. Questions

**_Believe_**

**_Chapter Six_**

**_Questions_**

Sark allowed Rogan to clutch his hand. Rogan was nervous at the prospect of meeting new people, and it took that to see how sheltered Rogan really was. Of course, he was only three and a half, so that was perfectly normal for him to be innocent. Sark almost envied it. But he knew the minute Rogan met Irina Derevko and McKenas Cole that was going to change. Sark's cell phone began to vibrate, so he stopped walking and pulled it out of his blazer pocket. Rogan stared up at him impatiently, his little legs shifting back and forth. Sark glanced at the caller ID and saw Sydney's number. He couldn't answer it. He couldn't talk to her. Not while he held Rogan's hand. He wasn't sure if he wanted to or if he even could lie to her while with her son. The phone stopped vibrating as it picked up to voicemail. He paused, then called his voicemail. He held his hand up as a sign to Rogan that it would be just a minute before they would enter the room. Sydney's worried voice came over the voicemail.

_"Sark, why didn't you pick up?" _Her voice was shaky and slightly angry. "_I need your help. Rogan's been taken by several men. He was abducted at the preschool. I know, I know, you told me not to send him, but I didn't listen to you and I'm regretting it right now. I need you to help me find him."_

There was a slight pause before Sydney spoke again.

_"The preschool teacher, Ms. Ambrose, she described the men that held the preschool hostage. The one that took Rogan, he had blond hair, blue eyes and a British accent. The CIA thinks it was you. I don't know what to think. Please, Julian, call me."_

The message ended and Sark gripped the phone with great strength. He wanted to crush the phone. Hearing Sydney's anguished voice was horrifying. And that teacher, he should kill her. Was that Irina's plan? To set him up for kidnapping Sydney's son? Technically he had kidnapped Rogan, but Irina was the one behind it. He'd been tangled up in Irina's web once again. He wanted to shoot something, but before he did, Rogan tugged on his arm.

"Are you mad, Mr. Sark?"

"Just a bit. I received some disturbing news from that phone call, Rogan."

"Oh. Does that mean we're not meeting the new people now?'  
"No. We're going in right now."

He slid the phone back into his pocket and then resumed the walk down the hall, Rogan toddling beside him, unaware of the danger that loomed ahead of him.

Sydney cursed as she reached the voicemail on Sark's phone. His smooth voice ran over Sydney, "_Leave a message and I will return your call."_ Short, simple, no actual identification. It was Sark all over. But why wasn't he answering his phone? Was he on a mission? Or was he avoiding her phone call? She hoped it wasn't the latter, because if he was avoiding her phone call that would make him seem incredibly guilty. And he couldn't be guilty. Except he could. Which was what worried her even more. Sark had seemed odd the last time she had spoken with him. Was this why? Was it because he knew he would be ripping her son away from her in a few days? Or did he even know about Rogan's disappearance. Even if he wasn't behind it, he would probably know about it. Sark knew everything. It was almost as if he were omniscient. But there was one question that burned in Sydney's mind, was Rogan taken because of Rambaldi and his insanity? Even Sark would have trouble resisting Rambaldi's power and secrets. Rambaldi was Sark's weakness. And Rambaldi's prophecies are exactly what would lead Sark to turn on her. Sydney sighed as she dragged herself out of bed. She had to go to the Operations Center. She had to help compile a list of people who would want Rogan. She had to find her baby.

Sark opened the door cautiously. He kept Rogan behind him in a protective gesture. He could never be sure what Irina had planned. That phone message from Sydney proved that. Irina sat at a round table, Cole next to her. There were a couple of guards at the back of the room, but he imagined they would be removed when the meeting started. Irina stood as soon as she saw Sark.

"Sark, I'm so glad to see you again. You were so odd in Canada."

"And you were lying to me in Canada, but I hadn't intended to bring that up."

Irina flashed a sparkling smile not unlike Sydney's. The only difference was that Irina's was calculation and Sydney's wasn't.

"I hope you brought my grandson."

"That was a nice surprise for you to spring on me, Irina. You could have told me what the package was."  
"You wouldn't have gone if that were the case. Your loyalties to Sydney are your weakening. I couldn't have that."

"Why didn't you have Rogan taken from the preschool like you had the bint say?"

Irina bit back her smirk. "Rogan would go with you, Sark, without much interruption. That's why I had you pick him up. He already knows you."  
Sark noted that she didn't answer his question. "So glad I could be of service."

Sark stepped on into the room and allowed Rogan to enter. He stood timidly in front of them, his eyes downcast, his hands clasped behind him. Irina walked around him, as if trying to see Sydney in the child. Or maybe she was trying to find out if Rogan looked anything like Rambaldi. He couldn't be sure with Irina. Irina knelt in front of Rogan and placed a charming smile on her face. A smile that Sark recognized once again. It was the same one she had used as Irin Dero, English teacher at boarding school.

"Hello, Rogan. My name is Irina."

"How'd you know my name?"

"Well, you're a very special boy. And you know what?"

He shook his head solemnly, his wide brown eyes staring at Irina with boyish fascination. Irina gripped his arms to make sure he was paying attention to her.

"I'm your grandmother."

"My granma?"

"Yes."

"I doan have a granma."

"Yes, you do. Sydney is my daughter, Sweet Boy."

Rogan watched Irina for a moment, as if he was trying to figure out what was happening. He glanced back at Sark, almost wanting him to confirm what the strange woman was telling him. Sark kept his face blank. He didn't know how to help explain this to the little boy. Rogan seemed disappointed that Sark wouldn't tell him what to think. He pulled out of Irina's grip and walked back behind Sark again. Sark wanted to smile. Rogan could resist Irina's charms unlike him as a boy.

"He likes you, Sark. Who would have known you would get along with a child?"

"Maybe he knows better than to trust you, Irina. That would make him a hundred times smarter than me."

"You've never trusted me, Sark."

"Then he knows better than to be pulled in by your charms."

"You're so cruel to me today."

"I'm sure it hurts you terribly. Now you've met Rogan. Can I take him back to the hotel before the meeting starts? Or is he going to have to sit through the meeting?"

"Oh, he'll be staying with me from now on, Julian."

Sark hated it when she used his first name. It was as if she thought that would make him want to go along with her plan. Instead, it angered him more.

"I'm afraid not, Irina. You'll steal away in the middle of the night without telling me where you're taking him."

"You would do the same."

Sark stared at her with a hardness he never had stared at her with before. He would not let her take Rogan away from him. Rogan would stay with him.

"I wanna stay wif Mr. Sark, Granma."

Rogan peeked out from behind Sark's legs, his eyes pleading with her. Irina watched him carefully.

"You like Mr. Sark, Rogan?"

"He's my fren. He's Mommy's fren too. Mommy will be sad I wen away wifout her, but if I was wif Mr. Sark, she might be happier."

"Oh. So this is for Sydney?"  
"Yep. And Mr. Sark."

Irina smiled at him again, then reached around Sark to take Rogan's hand.

"If I let you stay with Sark, will you be a good boy for me? And come meet a man for me? And then sit quietly while Sark and I talk some more?"

He nodded. "Okay. You can stay with Sark."

Rogan finally beamed at Irina, a huge smile on his face. Irina watched him and realized that was the way to get to the boy. Sark. And Rogan was the way to get to Sark. She looked Sark in the eyes and Sark felt like he was being seen through. Irina knew now. Irina had found his weaknesses. He didn't stand a chance. He cursed himself. He knew better than to make attachments. But he had, and now it was going to come back to bite him in the arse. Irina walked with Rogan to the table just as Cole stood up excitedly. Sark watched them for a moment, a mixed feeling of excitement and dread deep inside of him. Sark walked over to the table where Cole was now eye level with Rogan.

"My name's McKenas, little man. It's great to meet you. I really adore your father's work."

Rogan stared at him unsure of what that was supposed to mean.

"Kenas is a funny name."

"It's McKenas. You know what, buddy, you can call me Cole."

Rogan shrugged and stared at him for a bit longer. He didn't like the man standing in front of him. He looked nice enough, but he looked kind of scary to. Like he was mean to people. Rogan looked at Sark as if expecting him to stop Cole from talking.

"Sark, I would rather you leave for a moment." Irina requested.  
"That's not likely to happen, Irina."

"You're one of us now, Sark. Part of the Council. But Cole and I need to talk to Rogan alone. He seems to look to you for guidance when we speak with him, and I can't have that. Just go out in the hall. We'll call you back in soon."

Sark shook his head again, but he knew Irina was going to force him to. He sighed loudly and moved towards Rogan. He ruffled the boy's hair and then bent down to his ear.

"I'm going to be outside in the hall, Rogan. If they try to make you leave, I want you to scream bloody murder. Loud enough so I can hear. Can you do that for me?"

Rogan nodded sullenly. Sark offered him a small smile before turning warning eyes on Irina.

"You do anything to hurt him-"

"He's my grandson, I wouldn't hurt him."

"You've hurt Sydney and she's your daughter. I mean it, Irina. You hurt him and I will kill you."

"I don't take to idle threats, my boy."

"It isn't idle, Irina. You can test it if you like."

Sark turned on his heel and stalked out of the room.

Sydney tossed the pen across the room and slid the pad of paper towards Weiss. He was watching her sympathetically and it was annoying her. She didn't want sympathy. She wanted to find Rogan.

"I can't think of anybody else. I've written every person who has ever hated me. Even the ones that haven't been around lately like Ana Espinosa. They didn't take Rogan."

"Why do you think that, Syd?"

"Because they have no reason to, except for the fact that they hate me. Rogan was taken for a reason."

"Why do you think it wasn't just vengeance?"

"You know who Rogan's father is. That is the reason he was taken."

Sydney looked Weiss in the eyes. He was the only one close to her, besides Sark, that knew who Rogan's father was. Most didn't ask, others had waited for her to tell them, only to find she never would. But Weiss knew.

"You think this has to do with all those crock prophecies?"

"Of course it does. Because Rambaldi and his prophecies have to rule my life."

Weiss reached across the table and squeezed her hand. He waited for a moment and then opened his mouth to speak. He shut it again, but not before Sydney noticed that he had something to say.  
"What?"

"Nothing."

"You were going to say something."

"You're going to punch me when I ask."

"I won't punch you."  
"Fine. I don't try to understand your relationship with Sark. It's weird, but I don't ask you questions about it. But I'm going to have to. Can you say without a doubt that Sark wouldn't take Rogan?"

Sydney pulled her legs up in her chair and stared down at her shoes. She thought for a minute before looking up forlornly.

"I can't. But I'm trying to find out if I ever will be able to."

"What do you mean?"

Sydney glanced around the conference room to make sure it was empty. Jack was out harassing his snitches, Dixon was on the phone with Langley, and Vaughn was-well, doing whatever it was he did.

"I called him before I came here. I got his voicemail. I don't know if he's avoiding my calls or if he was just busy. I'm going to try again soon."

"Go ahead and do it now."

Sydney looked at Weiss, wondering why he wanted her to call now.  
"So we'll know, Sydney. We'll know whether he's got Rogan or not, if he's lying to you or not. We'll know whether we need to pursue Sark or someone else."

Sydney bobbed her head once before digging in her purse for her cell phone.

"You're right. We need to know."

She dialed the number for the second time that day and waited as it began to ring. The ringing stopped and a smooth voice answered. "Sydney."


	7. Tips

**_Believe_**

**_Chapter Seven_**

**_Tips_**

****

****

"Sydney?"

Sydney immediately perked up at the sound of Sark's voice. She hadn't really expected him to answer her phone call. She was actually starting to doubt him as much as she hated to admit it. She had always had this nagging voice in the back of her mind that warned her not to trust him. She had tried, after all, he had proved himself time and again to her to be trustworthy. Yet, it still wasn't enough, for he wouldn't give up his pursuit of Rambaldi and the Covenant to stay with her. That always made her question him, especially in the fact that Rogan had been taken from her by a man that was described to be remarkably close to Sark. Rogan was Rambaldi's child and Rambaldi was the one thing that Sydney knew could make Sark betray her. She really despised how that man managed to ruin her life over and over again, yet had been dead for hundreds of years.

"Sark, I didn't expect you to pick up."

He paused for a moment, but not long enough to raise Sydney's suspicions.

"Sydney, I'm delighted to hear from you."  
"They took Rogan."

"Bluntly put, Sydney. Listen, I've already heard about the kidnapping."  
"Was it my mother? I know she's behind this."  
"I limit my contact with Irina if at all possible."

An evasive answer that didn't actually give her any information that helped. His answer neither confirmed or denied her mother's involvement. In a way, it confirmed it. Sark wasn't exactly loyal to Irina anymore, but he wasn't a snitch, either.

"It was my mother. Sark, do you know where Rogan is? Do you know why she took him? Do you know if Rogan's safe? Do you know if it's because of Rambaldi?"

"I don't know why Rogan was taken."

Again, he didn't answer all of her questions. Sydney felt shivers run down her spine at the tone of Sark's voice. Sark seemed to be placating her, something he had never done before. Sark rarely tried to spare her feelings or keep her from getting upset. In fact, he seemed to relish in the opportunity to get a rise out of her. So his pacifying her only served to worry her more, instead of assuaging her fears.

"They're saying you took Rogan?"  
"Are they? The CIA, I assume. Seems to me it is the perfect way to raise your mistrust against me. In fact, it seems to be working smashingly."

Sark actually sounded indignant at her accusation. A small ounce of guilt crept up inside of her. She shouldn't distrust Sark so much. Jumping to conclusions hardly helped the situation.

"Will you help me find him?"

"I'm afraid I have other obligations. I'll keep my eye out for Rogan, though, Sydney."

Sydney felt like she had been punched in the stomach by Sark's expert fist. He wasn't going to help her rescue her baby this time. He didn't care about their history. Maybe he didn't even care about her or her son.

"I won't beg you."

"I don't expect you to. I do wish I could bring Rogan home to you, but I can't."

"You won't even help look for him."

"I-"

"What?" She snapped accusingly.

"I am sorry, Sydney." With those words, the line disconnected. Sydney sat in stunned silence for several minutes before lowering the phone. The fact that Sark had apologized to her was not lost on her. Her eyes darted up to meet Weiss' sympathetic gaze.

"He did. He took Rogan. I can't believe I trusted him. He lied to me for almost the whole conversation."

In a fit of rage, whether it was at herself for semi-trusting Sark or at him for betraying it, she threw the phone at the wall until it shattered into slivers of plastic and colorful wires.

"How do you know, Syd? I doubt he just came right out and saw, 'I took your kid'."

"He apologized."

Rogan felt somewhat like Daniel in the lion's den. Irina and Cole were circling him with interested, fascinated eyes. All the attention made him nervous and incredibly uncomfortable. The woman who said she was his grandma hardly seemed like the grandmother of storybooks. She seemed like she was more interested in studying him like a rat during an experiment, than interested in him. He felt like he was one of the chimpanzees he loved to watch at the zoo when his mommy took him to visit. He had always thought it would be fun to be an animal at the zoo, but now he wasn't so sure. He would definitely not stare so much at the animals after this experience. Irina ruffled his hair finally and stepped back to let Cole examine him as thoroughly as she had. Rogan didn't like Cole and that was incredibly unusual. Rogan more or less liked everyone he met, being the friendly, magnetic personality he was. It was possible that Rogan was starved for companionship that explained his willingness to like everyone. After all, Sydney had basically isolated him - even if it was to protect him - and so he seemed even more content to be an agreeable, people-pleasing little boy. Cole was the only person Rogan had met that seemed slightly frightening and maybe a little cruel under the charismatic exterior. Rogan took an involuntary step back as Cole knelt eye level with him. Rogan wished Sark were in the room again, because Sark could save him from all the bad men. Sark was strong that way and Rogan realized at that moment that he had to be strong like Sark. Sark never got afraid and neither would he. Irina's delighted laughter tinkled in his ears, reminding him of his mother.

"Rogan already knows you're a sociopath, don't you, my bright little one?"

Rogan's wide eyes blinked back at her, the only answer he would give her. Of course, he had no idea what sociopath meant, but he imagined it wasn't good.

Cole reached out and squeezed Rogan's shoulder.

"Don't worry, Little Guy. I won't hurt you. Your father is a very special man and I wouldn't even dream of bringing harm to his son."

Rogan watched him carefully. Mommy had never talked about his daddy before. Rogan had always pretended that his daddy was like Uncle Eric and Grandpa Jack and Dixon all mixed up into one person. Maybe some of Mr. Sark, too, but when he had pretended about his daddy before, he hadn't really 'membered Sark. He'd never really thought about who his father was, though. He just wasn't there and it was bad to ask Mommy about him. Rogan tried to stop himself from asking Cole about his daddy. Cole might use it against him or Mr. Sark when he tried to take him away. But Rogan did anyway.

"You know my daddy?" His voice was tinged with little boy wonderment.

Cole laughed jubilantly and picked Rogan up to swing him around the room.

"I do! Do you want to know him, too?"

"Is he here?" Rogan wriggled out of Cole's grip, wide eyes innocent as he glanced around for the sign of another man.

"Not physically. Your father was incredibly old and he had already died when you were born. Rogan, my man, there is so much about your father you can learn if you want to. We'll teach you."

Rogan didn't answer immediately. He shouldn't say yes or no without talking to Mr. Sark. He would know if Mommy would like him learning about his daddy. He was a little afraid that if he said he wanted to learn about his daddy, they would make him stay. He wanted to go home. Mommy hated not having him around he knew. She would miss him. Especially since he didn't tell her goodbye before he left. She would get back from her 'dult vacation and he was gone, which would make her sad. He missed Mommy, too. Rogan let out a childish sigh - more like an exaggerated breath than a sigh -and shrugged.

"Will Mr. Sark help me learn too?"

"All three of us will. That's our job, kid."

"Your job is to teach me about my daddy?'  
"Among other things."

Rogan could imagine having a job just to tell people about their dads. Maybe Mommy knew his grandmother and her friend were telling him about his dad. Maybe Mommy wanted them to. The door opened in the almost silent room, disrupting Rogan's thoughts.

"I believe you have had quite enough time alone with the child, Irina." Sark appeared in the room. Rogan already felt relieved at his presence. How pathetic that a three-year-old had to feel relieved.

"I recall telling you we would come get you when we were done."

"We have a meeting to get on with and I fear I'm growing bored at standing quietly in the corridor while you poison him against me and his mother."

"We've done nothing of the sort, Julian. Your paranoid delusions are creeping up again."

"The only delusions I've had are due to the illusions you orchestrated. Like my mother and her complete goodness."

At the mention of Alecksandria Petrokov a pall fell over the room. Irina bit back a smile as she saw everything fall into place. Of course, Sark didn't realize that Alecksandria was the reason he was in the Council. She and Alecksandria had been the best of friends and the bitterest of enemies. That was why Irina had taken Sark under her wing when Alecksandria had died. Well, that and the prophecies. The foolish boy had no idea he played such parts in the Rambaldi tale. He would learn in due time and fulfill the dreams his mother had had for him. It was better, Alecksandria's murder. She would have had to battle Alecksandria for control of the Covenant and Irina would have inevitably won. It was best that they had never had to face each other in a battle.

"This isn't about Alecksandria. But you are right about the meeting. Take a seat, gentlemen. We will begin this assembly, the first meeting of this complete council."

Rogan walked away from Cole quickly and attached himself to an already seated Sark. Rogan stood dutifully by his side, his little hands clutching Sark's arm. Irina strode around the table as Cole took his chair. She placed a translated prophecy on the center of the table for both eyes to see. All except the three-year-old began to read it reverently, not knowing that a certain section of the prophecy was missing. All, that is, except Irina.


	8. Deserving

**_Believe _**

**_Chapter Eight_**

**_Deserving_**

****

Sark and Rogan were returning to their hotel room. The Council meeting had adjourned and would be reconvened the next day. Rogan didn't care about when he had to go back, he was just happy to be away from his grandmother and Cole. The sun was setting on the city, the orange glow warming Rogan's face, giving him an angelic appearance. Oddly enough, shadows fell on Sark's. Rogan remained quiet while Sark processed what he had read during the meeting. It had been almost unbelievable to him. Rambaldi's teachings always were. Yet, Sark was positive something was missing. The Prophecy seemed to have been edited. Of course, he had no proof other than the fact The Prophecy didn't exactly make sense. Like a major event had been left out. Sark also took into consideration that Irina was the one who presented them with The Prophecy. Irina, the only one who had see The Prophecy before the rest of them, one who had been a member of The Council long before he had joined. The amount of trust he put into the woman was nonexistent. Irina didn't deserve his trust. He wouldn't put it past her to remove parts of The Prophecy that she didn't want him to know. She would play him easily if she thought it would further Rambaldi's works. Sark knew that and it irritated him to no end. He was not a pawn for Irina to play. That woman would not use him. He was independent and he understood the dangers of partnering with Irina. He had done it before and it had landed him in CIA custody for two years. Of course, that was how his relationship with Sydney began. Then, again, that relationship was more or less severed with the kidnapping of her son, but he wouldn't dwell on that fact. Actually, he could rationalize it. He was protecting Rogan with him there. Rogan's contact with Irina would be limited and mostly supervised. He was looking out for Sydney's interests, even if she didn't see it the same way. Sark nearly chuckled at his ability to rationalize the situation. He had never really wanted to justify his actions before. He had never needed to. But Rogan seemed to be attached to him like a sudden conscience. Maybe it was his wide amber eyes that stared at him so much like his mother's. Maybe it was Rogan's apparent trust in him. No one trusted him. His reputation of his ruthless actions and flexible loyalties often preceded him. It didn't bother him. Surprisingly, Rogan's trust did. Maybe it was Rogan's innocence. Sark didn't associate with innocent people. No one in their business was innocent anymore. He seemed almost drawn to the childlike purity of Rogan's personality. Sark glanced down at the boy and ruffled his hair almost affectionately. He remembered his own mother gently brushing his blond curls back from his forehead. That memory was now tainted by the truth of his mother's life, but it wasn't the time to think of Alecksandria. Rogan smiled up at him at the feeling of Sark's hand, stopping Sark's tumultuous thoughts of his mother.

"Can I call Mommy? I want to ask her sumpin'."

"What is it you wish to ask her?"

Rogan looked away from Sark guiltily and started at his velcroed shoes. Sark noticed the changed immediately. Rogan was young and he hadn't yet learned the art of hiding his emotions yet. He didn't know he had a 'tell'. Rogan didn't answer, as if he hoped the question would vanish and Sark would give him a phone to contact his mother.

"Rogan, you must inform me of your reasons in contacting your mother before I even consider giving you permission."

Rogan gnawed on his puffy bottom lip as he tried to choose his words. He didn't want to upset Mr. Sark and he was never quite sure what angered him, other than his grandmother's presence.

"Well, I wanted to tell Mommy 'bout meetin' Grandma and Cole and I wanted to ask her if I could learn 'bout my daddy here."

"Learn about your father?"

"Yep. Cole said that it was your jobs to teach me 'bout him."

"Did he now?"

"Mhm. But Mommy never tells me 'bout Daddy. So I doan wanna make'r mad. Or sad."

Sark considered what Rogan was telling him. Cole was already trying to turn Rogan into a Rambaldi follower. Or fanatic, depending on the point of view. Sark could remember Irina introducing him to Rambaldi. She had made the whole story of Rambaldi seem like some sort of mystical fairy tale come to life. He had been skeptical at first, chalking it up to being a fairy tale like Rip Van Winkle that his English teacher wanted to teach him. But he was soon shown the power of Rambaldi and he had become a dedicated follower of the prophecies. In a way, he hadn't changed in his pursuit of Rambaldi, but he was definitely more skeptical of Irina than he had been. He didn't fully trust in the prophecies anymore either. He didn't like the image of being a puppet on a string being controlled by a 14th Century prophet. He was in control of his own life and his own destiny. There would be no forced, oblivious actions in his life. Sark took Rogan's hand to cross the street as they reached their hotel.

"You can't contact your mother yet. I appreciate your cautiousness in dealing with Irina and Cole. You should continue being cautious. And if you are not sure what they say is true, wait and inquire to me at a later time."

Rogan stared at him tiredly and a bit dejectedly.

"Cheer up, old man. It is going to be all right. You can talk to Sydney in the near future."

Sark glanced back down at him, to see if Rogan looked any more comfortable. He met Rogan's sparkling brown eyes just as the little boy started to giggle.

"Did I say something amusing, Rogan?"

"You called me old man! I'm not old!"

Sark actually smiled as the little boy lost himself in a fit of carefree giggles.

Sydney was almost frantic now. The gravity of the situation had finally hit her. She'd finally accepted that Rogan was gone, but she wasn't able to accept that Julian Sark was the responsible party. It wasn't that she didn't believe that he was capable of it. He was the murderous, disloyal Mr. Sark. It was the fact that he had taken _her_ child. After he had helped her find him in the first place, and even killed Sloane for her. Then again, the only reason Sark had really helped her was because she had let him escape from CIA custody. He owed her absolutely nothing anymore, not even common courtesy. They were even. Still, she couldn't help but feel betrayed. Apparently, he didn't feel the same way she had. She'd had trouble accepting her feelings to start with, and now she was even more paranoid of them. She wished she knew where he was so she could show him just how frustrated she was. They had always solved their problems with violence more easily than conversation. Conversation was awkward. Fights were not. But, of course, Sark's whereabouts were unknown. They always were. She had to find him. Fake phone conversations were not good enough for this matter. But how did she locate him? She knew the CIA was pooling their sources and contacts together to find Sark since she'd come to the revelation that he was the one who had taken her child. Actually, they had been looking for him since before her revelation. The search for Irina and McKenas Cole was just as strong, as well. The trio was probably working together. Terrorists and murderers liked to stick together. Despite the CIA's efforts, she felt completely helpless and useless. She couldn't just sit there while everyone else looked for Sark futilely. She knew Sark better than anyone in the CIA and cooperating agencies. If anyone would be able to find the elusive Sark, it was she. Sydney stood from her chair abruptly while groping around the table for a phone. She realized suddenly that she couldn't call for plane reservations from the CIA office. They would be able to track her far too easily. Unfortunately, her cell phone was now smashed into tiny pieces of plastic and wire on the conference room floor, so she couldn't use that either. She opted to find a pay phone to make the reservation before she went to pack. If Sark were trying to hide her son, he would take Rogan somewhere he believed was safe. There was only one place she could think of that Sark thought of as safe. She had always loved England.

Irina rarely felt completely relaxed. She didn't have the time for it. She had a mission to complete, a nearly 35-year mission. The prophecies were falling into place. Rogan-her own grandson-was about to become one of the most powerful people in the world, and he was only three. She was helping him come into that power and she felt proud. She had always believed in Rambaldi and she would be rewarded for that belief soon enough. She'd never felt like she would complete the mission. She had truly wondered in the back of her mind if she would end up like Alecksandria, dead on the floor of a candy store due to betrayal and prophecies. Alecksandria had been raised in Rambaldi and that hadn't protected her. Irina had come into the teachings late, so she felt even less safe, though she wondered if she was more deserving of the reward. She had discovered Rambaldi. Alecksandria had never really chosen to follow Rambaldi, she'd been told to. Irina had chosen the enlightened path. Irina was a major part of the prophecies. Her child was a major part of the prophecies. Irina was the enlightened path, now that she thought about it. Without her, most of Rambaldi's prophecies wouldn't have come true. She wondered if staying with Jack would have changed the whole prophecy. There had been times when she'd been undercover with him, in their marriage that she hadn't wanted to leave. She had sometimes fantasized about staying and forgetting her position in the KGB and the Covenant. But Rambaldi had won out. Rambaldi always did. Irina stretched out comfortably on her office couch as she recalled the part she had kept from Sark and Cole. Neither had needed to know about the part of the prophecy that she had hidden. If Sark knew of it, he might abandon the project. And Cole, well, Cole would definitely abandon it. No amount of loyalty to Rambaldi's teachings would win out over loyalty to himself. She could almost picture the paragraph in her mind.

_The child will wield an amount of power unknown by everyone. Childlike innocence will be taken as protective instincts strike him for the Chosen. The Guardian's fatal distraction will bring the child into the power as the Fanatical follows them down the path to safekeeping._

Irina was pleased with the direction the meetings were going. Sark obviously didn't trust her and he had never trusted Cole. And in his distrust, Rogan followed suit. Irina had already seen Sark's protective instincts towards Rogan's, but more enjoyable was Rogan's protective instincts towards Sark. He wanted to stay with Sark, to save him from himself, perhaps. Rogan was incredibly perceptive, and while he didn't understand everything that went on around him, he was picking up on the animosity between the three of them. But Rogan was willing to side with Sark without questioning it, so everything was falling into place. Before Irina knew it, everything would have happened. Everything would be finished. And her life will have meant something. Irina smiled Cheshire cat-like just as a knock on her office door broke her from her thoughts.

"Yes?"

"Irina, it's me."

"Cole. Lovely. Come on in."

Cole entered the room quietly and made his way to sit on the desk. He studied Irina for a moment, unnerved by her smile. She didn't smile often. She wasn't the personality type. And her smile seemed to be telling him something, telling him to run in the other direction.

"Do you need something, Cole?"

Cole paused to consider his words carefully. Questioning Irina's decisions was not an easy thing to do. He was always in danger of having his head blown off for questioning her. Of course, the Prophecy meant for him to be on The Council so he couldn't be killed. That thought occurred to him suddenly and it made him continue.

"Do you think it is wise to let the boy stay with Mr. Sark? He could poison him against us."

"It's wise."

"You don't agree with my belief that Sark could undo everything we teach Rogan about Rambaldi?"  
"You forget, Sark is a follower as well."

"Yes, but he doesn't believe in it the way we do, Irina. He doesn't believe in our destiny."  
"He will, soon enough. He won't have a choice."

"What if he chooses to run off with Rogan?"

Irina's eyebrows rose interestedly as that smile returned to her face. She actually seemed amused by his questions, which Cole did not understand. Every one of his questions was reasonable. There was no reason for the amusement.

"Then you'll have to follow him."

Irina winked at him before standing up from the couch. She reached out and brushed Cole's cheek sensuously. "You're such an integral part of this, McKenas. Have no fear. You'll be there when Rogan comes into power. Sark won't be able to stop it if he so chose."

"If you're positive about this, Irina."

"I am. As is Rambaldi. It's written."

Irina held open the door for Cole, showing that she wished for him to leave. Cole hesitated before removing himself from the desk. He shuffled some of the papers back into a stack before walking out of the room. Irina shut the door with a satisfying click. Yes. Everything was falling into place.


	9. Resolve

**_Believe_**

**_Chapter Nine _**

**_Resolve_**

Sark found himself outside on the terrace of his luxurious hotel room, pondering the meaning of life. Well, less than that, he was pondering the real meaning of Irina's game. She had called another meeting tomorrow, to discuss more about what they had read in the Prophecies, but he had heard the amused tone in her voice. He didn't like that tone. It was the way she sounded when she thought she was playing a delightful game of cat and mouse with humans she considered less intelligent than herself. In a way, it offended him that she apparently thought less of him than he thought of her. But he also knew it was to his advantage, because Irina Derevko was underestimating him. No one underestimated him and lived to regret it. In fact, Irina was the one who had taught him to pay back anyone who doubted his abilities. Well, it was only right that she would get a little bit of what she taught.

Sark sighed lightly as he stared out over the dark night; no stars, hardly any sliver of moon. He wasn't really one to admire his scenery, but he was restless and he hadn't wanted to wake Rogan. The little boy had survived quite an ordeal after meeting Irina. He had been exhausted and confused, and likely a bit homesick, and Sark wanted him to rest. Tomorrow would likely be another one of those tragically strenuous days for him. He moved back inside, his blond locks curling slightly at the ends as the wind brushed through his hair, tousling it just so. Rogan lay asleep in the large hotel bed, making him look like a dot on white paper with how deep he was snuggled into the clean white sheets.

Sark watched him, guilty feelings bubbling inside of him. He hated this newfound guilt that he seemed to be plagued with occasionally. He liked not having a conscience. His life was better for leaving it behind, but this boy brought it all back. Maybe because Rambaldi and things so much bigger than him were controlling his life. Rogan would never understand what was happening fully, at least not for a long time. Sark knew what it was like. That was the way his life had been, especially after his mother had been murdered. Alecksandria's death had ended any chance of him being completely happy and without the search of a 14th Century prophet. His mother had never mentioned Rambaldi to him, just as Sydney had never mentioned Rambaldi to Rogan. Yet all of their lives were impossibly tangled between the darkness and light that Rambaldi brought.

This boy remained fairly untouched by what he was living through, completely unaware to his true meaning in life. Sark had thought he had saved this little lost child when he had ended the deplorable Mr. Sloane's life, but apparently that had been a ploy of Irina's. He knew better than to trust Irina Derevko, but he seemed to do it continually. Not that he regretted murdering Sloane. The man got everything he deserved and at least Sydney had had a few years of happiness with her child. Now there would be no happiness for them again. If only this little boy would be aware of what was happening. Maybe Rogan could talk some sense into him, since he obviously had a soft spot for the child. Or perhaps it was the soft spot for Sydney that had gotten to Sark. All the same, Sark didn't know how to stop what was happening and he wasn't so sure he wanted to. He had always wondered what Rambaldi had intended for all of their lives and if he stopped Rogan from fulfilling his destiny, he would never know what it was that Rambaldi wanted for everyone's lives.

Sark started to walk towards the other bed, ready to at least lie down, but Rogan stopped him with a whimper. Sark turned back to the boy and studied him. His face was twisted in agonizing pain and he was whimpering more. "AH, MOMMY! MOMMY!"

Rogan's cries were somewhat heart-wrenching. Sark had heard people cry for their mothers before, right before he had stopped them from every breathing another word. But this was more than he could take, this little boy crying for Sydney and she couldn't come because he had taken Rogan from her. He hesitated at the end of the bed, unsure of what he was to do. He remembered now that there was a reason his interaction with children was limited. Sark was more up for torturing people than nurturing them. Children's innate helplessness made him incredibly uncomfortable and slightly irritated, just as Rogan's cries for help made him nervous. Sark wasn't one to abide helplessness in anyone; there was no excuse for being such. Of course, Rogan was an inexperienced child, and he was allowed to be helpless. Sark stared at Rogan and wondered what he was to do. He had no experience in comforting a child from some traumatic nightmare. He'd only dealt with his own nightmares and he rarely had them anymore. Perhaps it was the fact that his own life was so horrific, that his imagination had nothing left to make into a nightmare.

Sark finally decided he should awaken Rogan. Sark sat hesitantly beside Rogan and studied Rogan a bit more. The closer Sark got, the more he realized that the boy was already awake. His wide brown eyes stared almost vacantly at the corner of the room, his face contorted with fear.

"Rogan, you are simply having a nightmare. It is probably due to your unfamiliar surroundings and the absence of your mother."

Sark waited for a reply, but all Sark received was a whine. Sark reached a hand out tentatively and clutched Rogan's shoulder. The boy shot up and scooted into Sark's lap, ignoring any internal warnings he had not to get too close to Mr. Sark. Sark remained in a stunned silence for several moments. He wasn't completely appalled by Rogan's trust and affection, a confusing fact for the insidious Mr. Sark. Sark awkwardly patted Rogan's back as the child snuggled into him.

"Do you wish to discuss the dream?"

Rogan shook his head stubbornly, unwilling to relive any moment of his terror. Sark hesitated, then chose to let the boy calm himself before Sark pressed him any further for information.

Rogan finally stopped shaking and for a moment, he seemed oddly serene. He appeared to have found that post-nightmare calmness; an occurrence that often fascinated Sark for he rarely seemed to find that serenity after his nightmares. Sark debated whether to pull the child from it, but he had to know what disturbed the child to the point of terrifying screams.

"Rogan, can you tell me about your nightmare now?"

His voice was harsh against the silence of the room. He was too hardened to the world not to have a sharp edge to his voice. Rogan pulled away from him quickly and crawled back onto the bed, reaching for a pillow to clutch. Sark's words seemed to have sprung him into action.

His childish voice slurred obstinately, "I doan wanna talk 'bout it."

"Who was in your dream?" Sark pushed.

He shook his head again and Sark found himself growing irritated with Rogan. Sark's typical method of drawing information from others was not appropriate for forcing a three-year-old to talk. He didn't know how to speak gently or coax it out of a terrible toddler.

"Rogan, I truly must insist that you talk to me."

When Rogan didn't respond, Sark's patience was non-existent. Sark grabbed Rogan's shoulders in a flurry of motion. Rogan's eyes widened at Sark's sudden show of violence, his trust in the older man failing miserably. He had never really thought about Sark hurting him, as the thought rarely crosses a child's mind. He never considered the possibility of his mommy's friend being bad. But now he wondered as Sark gripped him roughly and applied too much pressure to his shoulders.

"STOP! Mommy will get you if you doan stop it!"

Sark let go, not because of the threat, but because of the realization of what he was doing. He was hurting Sydney's and Rambaldi's child.

Rogan held onto his pillow more tightly, because he had no safety toys to hold near. His eyes were wide and scared again, but this time scared of the threat in front of him. He curled into a ball and started to rock.

"Just tell me, Rogan." Sark's voice sounded tired for the first time in a long time. He seemed almost exhausted.

"The bad man died. But Mommy died, too."

Rogan turned his back on Sark and snuggled under the covers with no intention of talking to Sark anymore. It was his way of punishing Sark for hurting him, because in his mind, not talking was a horrible thing.

Sark watched him for a moment, that annoying conscience problem arising again. He'd hurt the poor boy after he'd had some nightmare of his mother being murdered. Sark could sympathize with that horror. Sark finally stood and walked back to the terrace. He would take Rogan away tomorrow, away from Irina and Cole, and then he would find Sydney and tell her of Rogan's dream. Because it was very possible that Rogan was a prophet, as Rambaldi had been. Sark realized it was very possible for that to be genetic, since Rambaldi was so particularly spectacular; Rogan could have been given it as well. Most three-year-olds didn't dream of murder, unless there was a reason for it. Yes, tomorrow, they would go somewhere safe where Irina's claws didn't reach him.

Sydney walked cautiously around the perimeter of the Whitechapel cottage. The place was Sark's and he was fond of setting traps to protect his interests. He was no idiot, all though most people were unaware of this cottage, so he would take measures to protect it. She finally felt satisfied that she was not walking into a trap and headed down the path to the stairs. She took out her lock picks when she reached the door and went to work at the lock. She jimmied the door open and entered carefully, her gun well within reach if she needed it. Scotch assaulted her senses, Scotch and the musty furniture smell. The cottage was as comfortable as she remembered, when Sark had brought her there last time, where they had shared their first real kiss. She could still feel the heat on her lips. The cottage made her feel calm and safe, a part of Sark's past before his life went downhill, and Sark had been safe there as a child. If Sark had been safe there, she truly believed she would be safe there now and hopefully her child was safe there now as well.

Sydney paused inside the den and shivered from the lack of heat in the house. Sark would have the heat on if he were there. Sark wasn't one to live without every comfort available. Still, Sydney refused to lose hope that Rogan was there. She began a frantic search of every envelope-sized room to find any sign of life, but there was none. The closer she got to the last room, the more hopeless she felt. This had been a desperate attempt at finding Rogan, but she had put all of her hope, energy and faith into finding him in Whitechapel. She had thought she understood the way Sark worked, of course with the exception of understanding why he would kidnap Rogan. Sark would take Rogan somewhere he could be in charge of the situation. She had been positive the Whitechapel cottage would provide that for him. Apparently she didn't know Sark as well as she had assumed.

She finally stopped in front of the last room in the house. The door was shut tightly and Sydney remembered that it was Sark's bedroom. The last time she had been there, Sark hadn't allowed her in. She reached for the knob tentatively, slightly shaky because she didn't know what she would find in the bedroom. She didn't know what Sark had concealed in the room. She finally pushed the door from her view so she could absorb what she saw. And she smiled.


	10. Gear

**_Believe_**

**_Chapter Ten_**

**_Gear_**

Sydney entered the room cautiously, her eyes scanning every detail of the room. She couldn't contain the smile when she saw the toy cars decorating the shelves on the wall and the little books of the Berenstein Bears and Hardy Boys lined neatly. This room was almost a shrine to a child's life, a happy time before life became messy. But this room wasn't just any child's room. This was Julian Lazarey's room.

Sydney ran her hand gently over the twin-size bedspread - dark blue with embroidered stars around the edge. The room was remarkably simple, so airy and innocent, that she could barely connect it to Sark. She couldn't imagine Sark in the room, even a child Sark. The next thing she saw on a cheap wooden bureau to help her imagine a child Sark was a picture frame holding a photograph of a little boy with an impish smile, blond curls, and glittering blue eyes, held by a woman with the same blue eyes. This was Sark's family - his mother. The woman who had been best friends with a young, idealistic Irina, brought her to the Rambaldi quest. This was the woman who had known Irina's true identity; known Irina was the woman Rambaldi had prophesied about. She was the reason Sydney, Sark, and Rogan had been drawn into this whole mess that they couldn't dig themselves out of. Why had Rambaldi insisted on predicting her and her son's lives? If he had kept the thoughts to himself all those centuries ago, the cultists wouldn't have discovered the prophecies about herself and Rogan.

Then again, Sydney reminded herself, if Rambaldi had never written about her, she wouldn't have her son. Rogan was, after all, Rambaldi's child, no matter how hard she tried to forget it. She didn't regret having her child. There was something about having someone be your own flesh and blood that made the life priceless, despite who the father was and the tribulations she faced because of the birth. Rambaldi was simply an unfortunate byproduct that came with having her child. She wouldn't give up any of the trouble she'd been through if it meant she lost Rogan. Rogan, as trite as it sounded, was her everything. The minute she'd remembered him, he had consumed her. All things good were wrapped up in this tiny boy and she refused to let that change.

Sydney placed the frame back on the bureau. She couldn't let herself get lost in her thoughts. She would be letting her guard down and that wasn't at all acceptable. At any building belonging to the formidable Mr. Sark, it wasn't possible for her to let her guard down. She'd learned that years ago. She'd relearned that lesson when he'd taken her son from her. Sydney sighed and sunk down into the bed, picking up one of the feather pillows. The softness that she felt from the pillow as she crushed it underneath her grip defied everything she thought of Sark. She could never associate Sark with softness and truly, she didn't want to. She was glad Sark had pushed himself back into the box of bad guy again. When he had jumped in between her unshakably formed boxes of good and evil, she'd found him hovering in the middle, and her entire universe had been thrown into chaos. But Sark had stolen her child and he had jumped right back into the bad box. There was no excuse for kidnapping her son, no forgiving it. Sark had proven that there would be no middle ground and her sense of truth was restored, even though she still wondered what had made Sark turn back the clock. Rambaldi was the only excuse she could think of. It was always Rambaldi.

Sark cocked his gun with a steady hand as he prepared for any kind of firefight he might encounter. Rogan watched with wide eyes, his chubby arms wrapped tightly around his new backpack that he'd purchased for the child. Sark realized that the kid must be terrified. But what could he really do about it? It was time for the child to grow up, even if he was only three. Rogan was not the typical three-year-old. Sark was only protecting him.

"Put the bag on your back and stay quiet."

Rogan nodded dutifully, his chest puffing out in childish pride. He moved the bag around his shoulders and Sark almost smiled. He recognized the action of pride, but he remained frostily stoic. He began to leave the hotel room, gun hidden under his jacket, but well within reach. Sark ensured Rogan was following behind him. The child's stubby legs could barely keep up with Sark's sure stride, but Sark could not carry him. Not when he needed to break into Irina's office without her or Cole noticing. He didn't want a confrontation with Rogan around. He couldn't afford to leave Rogan behind unguarded though. It simply was not an option. So his biggest hope was to make it through the hotel and then the office building not a block from the hotel without anyone noticing him or Rogan.

He made it out of the hotel easily enough. Rogan waited next to him as Sark punched in a code on the keypad that blocked Sark from entering Irina's office in the building not far from the hotel. He had been surprised that he'd been able to see Irina use the code. She wasn't usually that careless about her security system. Irina was if nothing but cautious. He tried not to overanalyze that fact he understood well enough from spending years with the woman. Irina simply hadn't known he was in the shadows. She would have had something scathing to say about being so obvious if she had known. Irina didn't tolerate mistakes. She had made no comment about it, so she must not have known. He opened the door gingerly in case the room was trapped. Nothing out of the ordinary appeared, not that it meant the room was safe. A lone lamp remained lit, enough to fill the room with a warm glow so he could see. He pulled Rogan inside carefully and put both hands on his shoulders. He squeezed Rogan's shoulders as if to impress on him the importance of the situation.

"Stand here and say nothing."

Rogan lowered his eyes, nodded shyly at Sark's command. Sark stared at the boy for a moment, wondering if Rogan understood anything that was happening. He didn't even reach Sark's hips, as he was only three and a half, but Rogan was extremely intelligent, a direct result of being the child of Rambaldi and Sydney. Rogan had been cursed from birth, just as he and Sydney had been.

Sark walked away from Rogan and went straight to the desk. He pulled out the middle drawer and found the false bottom he expected. He removed it and discovered the combination lock staring at him, just as he had predicted. He pulled the proper materials from his suit jacket and placed them around the lock. He began twisting the lock around until he found the correct numbers. In the back of his mind, he could hear his devils warning him that this whole operation was going much too smoothly to be real. Irina would do much more to protect Rambaldi than a combination lock. He ignored them, though, and opened the safe door. He saw the document immediately, but he scanned over them to ensure they were the ones he wanted. The true prophecy lay before him, written in Rambaldi's own hand. All Sark had to do was translate it and he would know the truth. He slid them into a tube, slammed the drawer shut with a hint of smug satisfaction on his face, and turned to walk to Rogan. He unzipped the backpack and placed the tube inside. The bag of a child would be the least suspicious place he could put it. Rogan's eyes were wide in a curious gaze. Sark took Rogan's hand and pulled him out of the office.

As soon as the door was safely shut, Sark pushed Rogan in front of him to creep out of the building. No amount of creeping, however, would be able to stop the predestined. Cole stood at the end of the hallway. His stance was relaxed and cocky and his face was filled with smugness. Even from the down the hall, Sark could sense it. He remembered ignoring the voices about how the job had been too easy. Now he knew they had been right. Cole hadn't been guarding the documents. Irina didn't trust McKenas Cole anymore than she trusted him. No, Cole had just known Sark would betray them. After all, betrayal was in a spy's blood.

"I hope you're out for a pleasant walk to show Rogan the sights, Julian. I mean, it looks like you're trying to make a clean getaway in a very movie-like fashion, but you wouldn't do that, right? The Big Bad Evil Man running to save the young child hero from certain trouble is far too predictable for you."

"I'm pleased you find me unpredictable, Cole. I wouldn't want to think my actions have become routine. I wouldn't dream of escaping with the child."

He called Rogan the child to cut all personal ties from Rogan. A nameless victim was easier to detach from than a three-year-old child of Sydney's that he needed to protect.

"That wasn't you I saw ushering him out of Irina's broken into office?"

Sark stared coldly at Cole, showing that he had no fear. Sark was rarely frightened or even shaken. He prided himself for lacking weaker emotions. He enjoyed the coolness he felt inside, the toughness that had been bred into him at a young age. Cole, however, lacked the fear as well. He stepped towards Sark, a steady, sure gait that showed no thought to what might happen. Only another indication of just how brilliant Irina Derevko truly was. Cole took his time, in no apparent hurry. He obviously wasn't afraid Sark would try to kill him or even escape at that time. Sark, on the other hand, knew what was about to happen, though he lacked the information that it was destined. Sark pushed Rogan behind him slightly, not an obvious motion, but it was enough to show he cared for Rogan. He didn't want any stray bullets hitting him, although the exact reason for that was up in the air; it could be because he was Sydney's child…or Rambaldi's. Cole rolled his eyes.

"Now, come on, my man, you know I'm not going to do anything to the kid. You know better than that. I just wanna check out the kid's supercool gear he's got."

Cole put on his widest, most fake smile to put Rogan at ease, but despite his naivety, Rogan knew all about wolves in sheep's clothing. He had thought Mr. Sark was good because he was Mommy's friend and he had been wrong about that, even though Mr. Sark hadn't hurt him. But he had taken him to see the bad people. And he knew Mr. Cole was a bad person.

"Why do you wish to see some childish books and toys, Cole? How will they interest you?"

Cole continued to take his stalking steps to the point that he was almost nose-to-nose with Sark to shake him. Sark now stood rigid, not letting Cole's deliberate attempt to discomfit him. Sark wasn't one to be intimidated. He'd been trained to be the one who did the intimidating.

"I'm truly a kid at heart. Aren't we all?"

Sark kept his hand steady as he began to snake up to the gun held in its holster. Cole would notice the action, of course, but hopefully he wouldn't notice it until it was too late to do anything about it. He wasn't afraid of confrontation with Cole. No doubt he would win. He just wanted to avoid scarring a three-year-old with a violent death he didn't need to see. Sark had witnessed one just like it when he was a child. No need to repeat it with the next generation.

When Sark didn't respond, Cole plowed on with his taunting act.

"Irina is not going to be happy when she finds out you've been betraying us, buddy. Irina does not take betrayal well. Look at how she set Sloane up and he was on the Council."

Sark's fist tightened at the mention of being a pawn in Irina's game, but it did not distract him from what he intended to do.

"Being on the Council does not mean you're safe," Cole continued, "from threats, especially threats by Irina. The Council does not give you protection. I will have to talk with Irina about this, you stealing Rambaldi documents. You know, maybe she'll let me use the box on you. I haven't used it in a while and I do like using needles. Then we'll kill you and Rogan will be under our tender, loving care. You'll like that, won't ya, kid?"

Rogan shook his head stubbornly and tried to reach up for Sark's hand, which unfortunately brought Cole's attention to Sark's movement towards his gun.

"Ah, now, that's hardly reasonable! How is it fair for you to sneak a shot at me?"

Cole went for his own gun, ready to take quick aim. Sark was much faster, of course, and he fired straight into Cole's heart, blood splattering on his suit and for the second time in Rogan's life, he was flecked with blood. Cole fell back, his eyes rolled up into his head as his lungs deflated for the last time. Rogan's eyes were unsure and frightened and for a moment, Sark softened understandably towards Rogan's fear. Rogan's pudgy hands reached up and brushed his face, smearing the blood across his cheeks into some sort of odd war paint.

"Mr. Sark, what is dis?"

Sark ruffled Rogan's hair gently before leaning down to make sure Cole was dead.

"It's nothing for you to worry yourself with, Rogan, nothing."

Rogan cast a forlorn look at Cole's body, not quite comprehending what he had seen, but on some level knowing something dangerous and bad had just happened. Sark placed the gun into its place under his jacket and he hurried Rogan out. No reason to let Rogan dwell on what he'd just seen. Besides, if someone had heard the shot, they would be on their way, and Sark would have to fight his way out of the building.

She smiled from the corner she'd hidden herself to watch the scene to play out like a movie. She stepped from the shadows to examine Cole's body. Everything was going just as it was supposed. Alecksandria wanted it this way. How proud she would be of her child if she were still alive, a pride that Irina herself felt with Sydney. It was a pity that Cole had had to die because of the prophecies. He was a good agent. But it was for the completion. Cole would be happy to die for such a noble cause, she was sure. Or not, but she was glad for him to die for a noble cause. She smiled again as she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket.

"Yes, I need a body disposal."


	11. Reunited

**_Believe_**

**_Chapter Eleven_**

**_Reunited_**

Sark pulled Rogan along down the pathway. He had managed to avoid any tails to his Whitechapel place, but waltzing around with the boy was not a smart idea. He unlocked the door and motioned for Rogan to go inside. The little boy was exhausted; it was written on his face. All of this travel and mayhem and murder was rough on the child. However, the exhaustion did nothing to slow the boy from exploring the house excitedly. His eyes were wide as they fell over the living room, the curtains, the furniture.

"Where are we, Mr. Sark?" He did a full circle in the hallway, unsure of where he was supposed to go.

"We're at my home in England, Rogan."

"I was wantin' to go see my mommy, Mr. Sark. I miss her, and she prolly misses me, too."

"We'll go see your mother soon. We'll need to talk to her about your meeting Irina and Cole."

"My grandmother? She won't like that much."

"She won't. You're correct." Sark stopped talking and glanced around the house quickly. Something was different in the house. Something that was more different than the usual staleness of a house that hadn't been lived in for a few months. Something wasn't right. The house actually smelled fresh, in fact, it almost smelled like Sydney.

"Mr. Sark, can I –"

"Silence, Rogan."

The little boy's lip protruded at the curt command. He wasn't used to be talked to in such a way, and he felt like he had disappointed Mr. Sark very much. He hated to disappoint people.

He looked up at Mr. Sark, who saw the look on his face.

"I just need you to be quiet, Rogan. There's something wrong here. I need you to sit in the chair right now."

Rogan did as he was told, his hands folded in his lap, his backpack still strapped to his back. He saw Mr. Sark pull out a gun from his jacket and it caused the little boy to shiver. He didn't like it when Mr. Sark had the gun. Something bad had happened the last time it had been out. He watched Sark creep down the hallway, with the gun right in front of him. Soon, Rogan couldn't see Sark anymore. The little boy's heart started to pound. What would happen to him if something went wrong and Sark got hurt? He would be all alone and his mommy would never know where to find him. And he wouldn't know how to find her. He couldn't even imagine what it would be like to never see her again. He couldn't let anything happen to Sark. He had to go make sure everything was okay. He stood up and toddled down the hall in a toddler's version of a run.

Sark slipped into his bedroom last. He had the feeling that was where the intruder was, or had been, but he wanted to make sure he had no surprises when he entered the room. He saw her there, lying across his bed, her eyes closed, but she wasn't asleep. He lowered his gun as soon as he recognized her, all though he wasn't positive that was the best idea. He was far from safe, even if it was Sydney. After he had kidnapped her son, she wouldn't be in the most compliant and kind mood. He wasn't sure what to say to her. He wasn't going to explain himself to her. That wasn't what he did, explain himself. He was a free agent; he could do whatever he wanted without answering to anyone, including Sydney. He stood in the doorway for a moment, and stared at her, his eyes scanning over her form. She shifted slightly, but she still didn't open her eyes. Maybe she didn't know he was there.

"You can say something, Sark. It's not like I can't feel you in the room. I am a spy."

"I wouldn't dream of doubting your ability, Sydney. I just didn't want to disturb you."

"Right. You're so caring and sensitive like that."

"What are you doing here, Sydney?"

"What did you do with my son, Sark?"

As if on cue, Rogan slipped by Sark in the door and ran into the room.

"Mommy! You're here! I missed you lots and lots. Mr. Sark said we couldn't come see you, but I missed you soooo much." He gave Sydney a huge hug, as Sydney enveloped him in her arms, burying her face into his hair. He smelled like her child, he felt like him. He seemed to be unharmed and well-adjusted, like he'd been on a vacation, not kidnapped. She didn't want to let him go, not again, for fear she would lose even more time with him, but he began to struggle in a way that demanded she let go. He hopped off the bed and looked guiltily at Sark.

"I'm sorry I didn't stay in the room, Mr. Sark. I jus thought you were going to get hurt and I didn't want that to happen."

Sark watched him, his eyes almost turning gentle. Of course, they didn't quite, because he was Sark. He knelt down eye level with Rogan.

"Rogan, you are not in trouble. I gave you the command because I want you to stay safe, and you will be wise to follow my orders in the future. However, you are not a bad child. I appreciate your concern for my safety, but I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Next time you will listen to me?"

"Yes, Mr. Sark."

"Good boy. Now run along into the living room. Your mother and I need to talk."

"About me?"

"Yes. Now run along." Sark turned to the shelves and pulled off several of his old toy cars off of them. He handed them to Rogan, who clutched them in his hand like he'd been rewarded. He toddled out into a hall, both Sark and Sydney watching him as he left. Sark waited before turning back to Sydney, but he could feel her eyes on him. They were sharp and burning his back, and Sark knew he should watch his back. Sydney was likely to turn on him any minute. She was that angry. He could feel the anger emitting off of her in waves. He was surprised Rogan hadn't noticed that. The child was observant as far as feelings went. Maybe he was simply blind to his mother's.

"So, Sydney….how have you been?"

Sark was surprised she didn't leap from her place on the bed and punch him in the jaw. He turned to see the look on her face, and she was far from happy with his wry comment.

"Oh, I've been great, Sark. Lovely. You know, with you stealing my son from his pre-school class, while pretending not to have any idea that he'd been taken, my life has been fantastic. And how have you been, lately? I know you've been busy betraying me for my mother, but what else has been going on?"

"I've actually been betraying your mother."

"What are you talking about?"

"You have absolutely no faith in me, Sydney."

"Because I have a reason to put all my faith and trust in you."

Sark moved across the room, a slight shudder running through him. He felt so odd standing in the room of his childhood, while talking to Sydney about such nefarious matters. It almost tainted his memory of the room, the memory of Alecksandria. Not that it hadn't already been ruined. He had always tried to keep this place separate from his life, though, his present life But that was gone now. He couldn't anymore.

"I will not be explaining myself to you, Sydney."

"You don't even have enough respect to tell me why you agreed to steal my child. You tried to warn me, even, at the playground, but I didn't listen to you. What if I had listened to you? Would you have still taken him? Or would you have let him go because I had taken your advice?"

"Don't ask me questions. I won't answer them."

Sydney finally did leap from her seat, and she rushed to his side. She pulled him to her, forced him to look at her. "You can't treat me like this, Sark. You will tell me why you stole my child. When I thought you were more than what you are. When I thought we were more…."

She stopped short, but she refused to look away from him. He would tell her why he did it. If she had to find creative methods of torture, he would talk to her.

"Sydney, this is not important. I have something more important we need to address. I retrieved a Rambaldi manuscript. The true one, not a version that your mother finds convenient to show me. We need to work on translating it completely, as soon as we can, so we can find out what Irina's endgame is."

"You have absolutely got to be joking."

"I don't really kid."

She gave him a hard stare. She couldn't believe he was babbling about Rambaldi pages again. When would this man, this dead man, stop tormenting her life?

"I am not discussing Rambaldi with you. We are discussing why you stole my child."

"Rambaldi has everything to do with that, so if you really want a reason for me to steal the child, you will help me translate. This needs to be translated as soon as we possibly can. Irina is going to discover what I've done, and she'll send someone after us."

"You have put my son into more danger than he's been in his entire life, and I do include his time with Sloane."

"Did you ever think that I have protected him from being harmed? That maybe I…" He slowed his outburst, refusing to explain himself to the woman.

"Sydney, your mother is not going to harm Rogan. He is important in the Prophecy. He is safe from Irina. We, however, are not. Time is of the essence."

She seemed to be debating what he was saying, knowing it was true.

"I will help you translate the document, Sark, but after we read it, you will tell me why you took Rogan. That is the only deal we will be making. If you don't accept it, I will take Rogan and we will leave you here for my mother to come and kill you."

Sark's smirk appeared on his face. Now that was the Sydney he had fallen in love with. The one with the fire and no-nonsense attitude in her logic.

"I accept the terms."


	12. End Game

_**Believe**_

_**Chapter Twelve**_

_**End Game**_

Sydney hunched over the manuscript, trying to ignore Sark's closeness next to her, trying to ignore his cologne that wafted into the air, making her want him the way she did almost two years ago. She needed to focus on the encoded page in front of her, not Sark. She couldn't possibly feel like she still loved him after everything he had done. He had stolen her child and taken him to Irina, the woman who had betrayed her time and time again. She had always known Rambaldi played an important part in Sark's life, a part that he hadn't been able to give up. There was a reason they hadn't been able to stay together, Sark wasn't able to give up the life, Sydney was barely able to give it up. She was still stuck inside the CIA and Sark was still stuck wrapped up inside Rambaldi's hold. He always would be; they would always be entangled inside of Rambaldi.

"This paragraph is what confuses me. So far, everything we've decoded matches perfectly with the copy Irina showed me of the translated version. But this section isn't translating the way it should be. Look here…"

Sark pulled out a copy of what Irina had shown him and McKennas Cole only a few days before. The first few paragraphs spoke about how the child would be taken from the Chosen One by the Guardian. Basically, it told them that Sark would betray Sydney by kidnapping her child, like it had already happened. Then it spoke on how the Guardian would return the child to the Fanatical…the Covenant, and that was where the translations began not matching up. The Prophecy continued to talk about how the child would wield a power unknown to mankind so far in the version Irina had provided him with, but the original version did not compare.

"You think my mother showed you a different version?"

"If it worked to her advantage, you know she would, Sydney." Sark ran his hand through his hair, tousling the blond curls that Sydney wanted to touch herself. Sydney rolled her shoulders and took her pen and began to doodle on the paper they had been using to decipher the Prophecy on. She drew lines absently, staring at the parchment, preparing herself to find whatever it was that Irina had kept hidden from Sark. It must be something important, possibly even involving him, that could help them figure out the Covenant's end game. She was always wondering what the end game was, and Sark needed to know.

Sark felt on edge. He wasn't used to feeling so out of sorts, and he most certainly wasn't used to feeling nervous about what he was about to read. He had always followed Rambaldi, always cherished the words the man had written. Apparently the dedication to Rambaldi was practically genetic, since his mother had felt the same way about him. Irina had raised him on Rambaldi, taught him to revere what the prophet said. Any writings found by Rambaldi, Sark had soaked up and fit the pieces together like a 5, 000 piece jigsaw puzzle. Now, he almost dreaded what he was going to find out. Irina had played him, a fact that he'd been aware of from the beginning, but she still managed to surprise him in the ways she did. She always knew how to penetrate his walls of protection, his seeming know-how to the spy life. Maybe he'd always been at a disadvantage with her. She'd been the one to teach him how to spy. She knew how to use him, even when he didn't want to be used.

Sark heard Sydney's gasp, so he turned to see what she had written down on the paper. He read the first line; then paused. He checked her translation against the same line on the parchment, satisfied his questions on whether it'd been translated correctly, then returned to Sydney's version of the Prophecy.

_The distrust amongst the Fanatical will result in the end of the Covenant, but will not end the reign of power of one particular member from the faction. Two of the three will remain, after the Guardian betrays the Covenant and brings death to one, and the Guardian will choose his alliance, not with the Fanatical but with the Chosen One, and will sacrifice several more lives to return the child to her and to keep him with her. The remaining Covenant member will prepare for the final battle, the final battle that will result in much destruction. Only the child that wields the power unknown to mankind will be able to stop her, with the help of the Chosen One and the Guardian, but it is he who must choose which side he wishes to be on. However, due to the situation, tragedy will happen. This child will wield an amount of power unknown by everyone. Childlike innocence will be taken as protective instincts strike him for the Chosen. The Guardian's fatal distraction will bring the child into the power as the Fanatical follows them down the path to safekeeping._

Sydney didn't know how to process what she'd written. How could her child stop Irina? He was only a boy, not even four years old yet. He hadn't even gone to school. Unless Irina really bided her time, until he was a grown man, Sydney could hardly even see how Rogan could stop Irina from using him for evil. How could Rogan make a decision when he couldn't even tie his shoes? Sydney was terrified by what she was just read and she hated herself for believing in the Prophecy. She would be able to stop this from happening. She would make the choice for Rogan, she was his mother. She would keep herself out of trouble, she would ensure her situation, so she didn't put Rogan in the position that he felt he needed to protect her. She would protect him, just like she was supposed to. Wasn't that what the Prophecy meant when it said that she and Sark were supposed to help him? Yes. That's all there was to it.

Sark was in his own thoughts after he'd read the translation. Even his killing Cole had been foretold. Irina had known all along that he would choose Sydney. She had made sure he had followed Rambaldi's prophecy to a T and he'd been like a puppet on a string, waiting for the master to tell him how to move. He was unbelievably irritated. He was more intelligent than this, smoother than this. He was completely outraged that he'd let this happen. He pushed away from the table, not storming, that was a bit too much emotion to let Sydney see. He tried to process the rest of the Prophecy instead of focusing on the anger he felt. How were they supposed to help Rogan make this decision? He was just a young boy. He couldn't imagine what they were supposed to do for him. All he knew was that he couldn't be distracted. He had to stay focused. He glanced over at Sydney, and saw how distressed she was. Her fear for her son was tangible and understandable, and it was written all over her face. He stepped forward for a moment, understanding why she was worried about him, he felt it too. He put his hand on her shoulder, rubbing it slightly. Her breath hitched in her throat and Sark liked the way he affected her. He almost wanted to take advantage of it. He did want to. He leaned down to her, pushing down on her lips with just enough pressure. Sydney didn't try to fight it; she just let the feeling wash over her. A slight moan erupted from her lips as his tongue slipped over her bottom lip, and soon her mouth was open for entry. Soon they were battling for control, and neither was thinking of the Prophecy.

Rogan sat quietly in the living room. He was thinking, which wasn't what he wanted to do. He'd rather talk to his mommy or Mr. Sark even. He hadn't seen his mommy in so long, and Sark never let him talked to her on the phone. He missed her so much. He had a lot to say to her, but she didn't want to talk to him right now. She was busy being a grown up. She wanted to talk to Mr. Sark, anyway.

His legs didn't reach the floor, so they swung back and forth in the chair. Sark had allowed him to play with some of the cars left in the bedroom, but he didn't really feel like playing with them. He kept feeling that sticky red stuff on his face. Mr. Cole had been talking and then he hadn't talked anymore. He hadn't really moved anymore, not after he fell down. He knew that meant Mr. Cole was dead. He knew what dead was. But he didn't know what happened after you were dead. Where did you go? What would Mr. Cole's mommy think about him being dead? His mommy would be sad if he died and didn't ever come back. Mr. Cole's mommy would probably be just as sad. Well, he wouldn't let his mommy be sad like that. He would stay with her and make her happy forever and never let anyone hurt her the way Mr. Sark had hurt Mr. Cole. He pinky promised that.

Jack was not the type of agent to spend his life behind a desk. Even when he'd been ordered to stay behind a desk, he had rarely listened. He was Jack Bristow. Long ago, the Agency had stopped trying to direct Jack, and allowed his slightly shady methods of completing methods slide by. Still, all the freedom he was given at the Agency did nothing to help him find his daughter after she'd run off, or his grandson, who had been kidnapped by a man that his daughter fancied herself in love with, despite his nefarious dealings. He thought he was going to go insane, trying to find some sort of clue or sign of where his grandson and daughter were. Sydney had disappeared, believing she could find Sark and talk him into returning her son. He only hoped that Sark would listen to reason and return the child before the Covenant took him and didn't allow anyone who cared about Rogan see him. But he sincerely doubted it. Sark had always been out for himself, whatever he could get that benefited him, not caring much for what would happen to anything or anyone else around him as long as he was safe. Sydney had accepted that about him, but deep down, Jack thought she might have felt Sark would change for her. Isn't that what women always wanted and believed? That men would change just for them?

Jack could see Rogan in the back of his mind, the little boy's bright brown eyes, straight messy hair, his wide, toothy smile as he ran around Sydney's backyard, oblivious to the dangers that lay ahead of him. He had to find his grandson and protect him from the Covenant. A ringing broke through his memories of Rogan and he snapped it up with an angry, "Bristow," as his welcome. He could barely believe what he heard on the other end.

"Dad, it's me." Sydney's voice sounded shaky, but still safe.

"Where have you been? How could you go off on your own? Sark is dangerous; don't tell me you've forgotten that."

Jack stopped his admonishments. Sydney was a grown woman, so she had every right to chase after her three year old on her own. She had put herself in danger, though, danger that he would like her to avoid by herself. She at least needed backup. She should have at least taken Weiss with her. Weiss would have helped.

"I haven't forgotten that, Dad. Listen, I have Rogan. He's safe. A little confused and upset, but all around, he's safe and sound. For now."

"What do you mean for now? Is there someone coming after him again?"

"It's a long story that I'll get into when I see you next. But I can't tell you all of this over the phone, no matter how secure these lines are. Besides, we need to get moving. This is one of the first places Mom will look for us here."

'Irina…"

"Is behind the kidnapping, as I suspected, despite the fact that I didn't want to believe it."

"So Sark didn't take Rogan?"

"No, he did," Sydney paused, "I'll explain it later, Dad. I promise. We need a safe place to go, that no one knows about. I figured you had plenty of places for that."

"Of course I do." Jack glanced around his office, unsure of why he felt like there were people listening to him talk to his daughter. He didn't want to say Sydney's name, he was afraid that people would know what he was doing.

"I'll send you an email with directions."

"Okay. That sounds great. Meet us there as soon as you can get away. And please don't tell anyone, not even Weiss or Vaughn. I just can't take any chances with my son."

"I can't take any chances with my daughter. I will see you as soon as I can."

Sydney disconnected before Jack could say anything else. He wasn't quite sure what was happening, a feeling that disconcerted him more than he cared to admit, but he would be filled in soon. Now, he just had to get away from the Agency. That wouldn't be a problem. He was Jack Bristow.


	13. Together Again

_**Believe**_

_**Chapter Thirteen**_

_**Together Again**_

Sydney was feeling fairly anxious about her father's coming. She just had the feeling that Jack wasn't going to listen to reason where Sark was concerned and he wouldn't understand the deal she and Sark had made. Jack had this annoying quality of not listening to the words she said when they didn't suit him. She often tired of trying to explain things to him when he was in that mode and she had no doubt that he would be in it when he arrived to the Whitechapel house. And he would be even less attentive when he learned that they would have to leave the house almost as soon as he arrived.

She barely felt the tiny hand touch her hip, but she did notice. She looked down to see Rogan staring up at her with eyes that were almost as innocent as she had ever seen. Still, there was a slightly darker undertone to his big beautiful eyes that Sydney immediately regretted. Her life had singed the edges of Rogan's childish innocence, no matter how hard she tried to stop it from happening. Even when she had tried to quit doing what she did. She wrapped her arms around Rogan, squeezing him tight. She loved the feel of her child in her arms, safe with her, even if her somewhat sanity ambiguous mother was after him.

"I missed you so much when you were gone, baby! But now you're back with me and we'll stay together until you're a super big boy!"

"I missed you, too, Mommy!" He returned her hug and buried his face in her stomach. He seemed almost as carefree as he had before, so Sydney tried not to read too much into Rogan's inherent sadness underneath everything else.

"Do you know where Mr. Sark is? And why d'ya look so sad?"

"Mr. Sark is in one of the bedrooms working. And your Grandpa Jack is on his way here. He missed you almost as much as I missed you."

"Grandma Irina talked abou' Grandpa Jack some. But Mr. Sark always made her stop."

"Did he? You and Mr. Sark get along really well, don't you? What did Mr. Sark do with you while you were away?"

"He read me stories and let me play wif toys. He always tried to make Grandma Irina and Cole be estra careful when they talked to me. And sometimes, we pretended like he was my Daddy, so other people wouldn't get…supicus." He seemed confused by his last word. Sydney tried to think of what Rogan could be trying to say.

"Suspicious?"

"Mhm. That's what I said. Mr. Sark said that to me."

"Mr. Sark's been teaching you words?"

Rogan nodded dutifully then glanced back at the bedrooms. He obviously wanted to be talking to Sark again. For some reason, the two had bonded while Sydney was absent in his life, and Sydney wasn't sure how she felt about the bond they shared. Once upon a time, she wouldn't have minded the two of them getting along, with Sark acting as a father figure in Rogan's life. In her fantasy, where Sark had left the Rambaldi quest the way she had tried to, he had been. But she had always known that was unrealistic and she had expected it to stay that way. The kidnapping had changed all of that. Sark could obviously influence Rogan with one single word, that was the way it was with children, and she didn't know if Rogan should keep spending time with someone as simply diabolical as Sark could be. Still, she could see he was itching to see Sark. Maybe it wouldn't hurt for him to keep in contact with Sark while they tried to rid themselves of this Rambaldi mess, then Rogan could go back to being a normal kid without Sark's presence in his life.

"You go on back to see Sark, Rogan. I'm sure that he won't mind if you interrupt his work."

Sydney knew Sark just might mind the interruption, but Sydney knew Sark wouldn't say anything to Rogan about it. She smiled just slightly at the thought of his discontent at being torn away from his work. She also saw the light in Rogan's eyes when she gave him permission. He squeezed his mother one last time and then took off in the direction of Sark's room. Almost simultaneously, the front door opened. Jack Bristow's towering figure loomed in the door. Sydney took a deep breath. This was it. Time for an explanation. An explanation that even she didn't understand.

Sark sat at his mother's small desk, running his hands through his just barely wet hair. He'd taken a long, cold shower after that kiss with Sydney, while she waited on her father to meet them here at the Whitechapel house. He had disappeared into the bedroom after he and Sydney had begun to plan how to beat Irina, and now he was going to look at this other piece of journal he took from Irina. He had recognized it almost instantly; it looked like all of the other journals he had seen as a child. His mother had been devoted to her journal, writing in it nearly every day. He could remember her sitting at this very desk, her pen moving across the smooth pages furiously. After she had died, he had kept them, read them when he missed his mother more than he had wanted to admit when he was a teenager, and felt like he knew her from reading them. They had all been filled with tales of their days together; some of her feelings at being so alone, but none had ever mentioned Rambaldi. But when he saw this journal in the drawer with the prophecy, he had known it was his mother's. This was one he hadn't read before. This was one Irina had kept. He wondered briefly if she had left it intentionally out for him to find, but he wouldn't dwell on it. He had to read this one too. His curiosity was getting the best of him (a mistake a spy should never fall for).

He opened the book reverently, scanning over the familiar slant of words across the page. She was seventeen when she had started this journal, just barely a woman. The beginning spoke of her family, but quickly fell into her father and Rambaldi's great mystery. He read the first few pages, surprised at the almost insane tone to her words as she rambled about how Rambaldi would bring about the greatest child of the world, things that he had known for many years, but had never connected with his mother. Alecksandria was obviously very connected to Rambaldi and what he believed and he understood how she should have been part of the Covenant. He didn't know what had changed her, what had made her stop believing in Rambaldi, or if she ever had. He had no idea what to expect from the rest of this journal, but he had the feeling they would only raise more questions about his mother's tie to Rambaldi. She was fanatical about this man, had she always known that he would be the Guardian? Was that why she quit spying? Because she wanted to raise the Guardian properly. Would she have raised him on stories of Rambaldi when he had gotten old enough to understand them, explained the religion of the man who had prophesied his future? Would she have protected him from his future, had having a child changed all that she had believed? So many questions and he could only hope that this journal would answer those questions the farther he got into them. He wondered, briefly, if this journal even mentioned her pregnancy with him. Again, he wondered if Irina was trying to distract him from what he should be focusing on. Irina loved to distract him. He sighed loudly, in actual exasperation. Sark was rarely exasperated.

It was almost as if Rogan knew that Sark needed a moment's break. He came into the room quietly, his head down, but a small, mischievous smile on his face. Sark watched him with mild amusement, because he knew that the child was so quiet because he didn't want to disturb Sark.

"Hello, Rogan."

He looked up guiltily, particularly when he saw that Sark was at a desk, appearing to have been doing some work. He finally replied. "Hi, Mr. Sark. Whatcha doin'?"

"Reading something my mother left behind for me to read. May I help you with something?"

He shook his head silently and he glanced up at Sark, obviously wanting to say more. Sark waited for a few moments, giving Rogan time to say what he needed to say. But Rogan took respect to a whole new level, particularly for a little boy.

"Is there something you want to tell me?"

Rogan's face burst into a full fledged grin. "Grandpa's on his way and Mommy said we're gonna go away wif him and it's gonna be a secret, like everythin' else has been."

Sark nearly laughed at Rogan's excitement over the espionage they were playing at. He was obviously born to a superspy due to the comment. Everything Rogan did reminded Sark of Sydney. He was the spitting image of his mother…with a few possible features from his famous and important father. They had yet to find the perfect sketch of Rambaldi, so they weren't quite positive what likenesses Rogan had inherited.

"You're right, Rogan. We will be leaving as soon as your grandfather arrives." Sark continued his explanation of what was happening until they both heard the door open. Jack was here. They would wait a few moments before going out, though it was quite a task to restrain Rogan from running out to greet Jack. They needed to give Sydney time to explain, though. At least a short version. He held onto Rogan and timed the entry to five minutes before he would let Rogan loose.

Jack's stony silence would be enough to crack a less formidable opponent, but Sydney knew how to ignore it. She refused to let his behavior wrack her nerves as she told him the whole story of what had transpired. His face remained stoic; Sydney would have expected no less from her father. Somehow, though, his eyes actually betrayed him, particularly when she filled in Irina's involvement in the kidnapping of her grandson and how she had planned on using them all like puppets in a show. Jack would never become accustomed to being betrayed by the woman he had once loved, now matter how many times she did it or how much he expected it from her. Sydney felt a pang of sympathy for Jack, because Sark had betrayed her in a similar way. She understood how it felt now, as well as the overwhelming desire to protect a child. Sydney finished the story with what the Rambaldi prophecy had predicted. Jack's anger at Rambaldi's involvement in his child's life broke through the stiff façade and he felt he immediately devised a plan that would best beat Rambaldi and Irina.

"You and Sark must separate immediately. You will go into hiding with Rogan. Sark is on his own, he has to face the consequences of betraying us. I will find a way to take care of Irina and when I do, that prophecy will be void."

Sydney had been prepared for Jack to try to take charge of her life. He was a leader to the core and nothing would ever change that. He was her father and while he often hid it, he only wanted to keep his family safe. Sydney had that same intention and she had her own ideas on what to do to stop this prophecy from coming true. She tried to think of the best way to tell her father that if he was going to help her, he was going to do it her way. Jack was never the most receptive at accepting orders or suggestions.

"Actually, Dad, Sark and I have come up with our own plan. You do play an important part to it. We need a safe, untraceable place to work everything out. Mom might know about this place, it was Sark's childhood home, so it will be easy for her to find us here. It's imperative that we have a safe place that she can't trace to any of us to finish it out. Sark wanted us to leave as soon as you got here, because the two of us assumed you would already have a place ready."

"Sydney, that can't be wise. Sark has proven once again that he can't be trusted. We will leave him here to deal with the backlash himself. Getting Rogan to a safe place is the most important thing we can do right now and letting Sark joining us will endanger that. Irina will not be happy that Sark also betrayed her."

"It's truly not up to you, Dad. I don't trust him, either, but we must play this out for Rogan's sake. I would appreciate you accepting this decision, instead of fighting me on it. I don't have the time or energy to fight you about this and I don't have anywhere else to go."

Before Jack had the chance to respond, Rogan burst into the room, a pristine looking Sark, following closely behind. Despite the lack of sleep, Sark looked as alert and immaculate as he ever had. Sark's expression was cool the instant he saw Jack, the look of almost adoration he had for the boy in front him vanished before anyone even noticed it. Rogan jumped onto Jack with an energy only 3 ½ year olds possessed. Rogan doted on his grandfather with the freedom of emotion children were blessed with.

Jack felt a rush of relief at just seeing his grandson. He didn't care how many times Sydney had told him that Rogan was okay, Jack hadn't seriously believed it until he saw Rogan right then. He allowed himself to embrace the small child, thankful that he didn't seem any more scarred than he was. Irina hadn't poisoned the child against him and he was thankful for that.

"I missed you almos' as much as I missed Mommy, Grandpa. I met Grandma Irina wif Sark and she said she used to love you and that you used to love her, which is so gross"

Jack was almost thrown off guard by Rogan's simple comments regarding Irina. He wasn't even sure how he was supposed to reply to that. Luckily, Rogan rattled on, regaling Jack with jumbled or almost nonsensical tales. Jack let him prattle for a few more moments and that's when he made his decision that he voiced as soon as Rogan took a breath.

"I've got a place. Let's go."


	14. The Coming

Believe

Chapter Fourteen

The Coming

The warehouse that Jack spoke of was dank and cold. Sydney didn't like the idea of Rogan being kept in this building, but she had the feeling that this warehouse was the least of her worries as far as what Rogan had been experiencing lately. No matter what Sark claimed about trying to protect Rogan, he couldn't stop the child from being exposed to everything. Especially where her mother was concerned. Rogan seemed to be taking the whole deal as a grand adventure that only proved that he was her child, through and through. He skipped around the center of the floor, delighted at the space that was provided. He had obviously been cooped up for far too long, needing the area to play and enjoy himself. Still, something seemed a little different with him. His innocence was tarnished now, the poor boy having no choice in the matter. She was sorry that she had brought him into this, even though she hadn't truly been a part of it.

Jack's unhappiness with Sark's presence was apparent to everyone involved, including Rogan. He didn't understand why his grandfather didn't like Mr. Sark, but he could tell that there wasn't much that could change it. Maybe Mr. Sark hadn't shared his toys with Grandpa. Rogan stopped skipping when he heard the piercing voice Jack held, commanding Sark and Sydney to join him at the small table in the corner of the building. Sark followed the demand almost reluctantly, nothing new, since he wasn't one to take orders. Jack seemed to have some kind of strategy session in mind. What Sark really wanted was to read his mother's journal, in hopes of finding some clue to this Rambaldi mess and how he played a part in it. He had no doubt that Alecksandria had mentioned it, since apparently he was the Guardian. Sark was far from willing to reveal the journal to Sydney and Jack, though, so he decided to play along with Jack. It wouldn't hurt to plan for whatever Irina's attack would be.

Rogan sat down next to the black leather case Mr. Sark had brought with him. He was bored now. At first, the building had seemed like it would be a great playground for games. But everyone was busy, and they didn't want him to bother them. He could tell, even though Mommy had never said for him not to talk to them. He decided that figuring out what Mr. Sark had brought with him would be a better game for him to play. He had had that long tube of paper that he had taken from Grandmother Irina and McKennas. He had seen Mr. Sark take it out of the bag. But there had to be more in it than the paper. He wondered if he would have any books or toys in it. Maybe a gun…like the one he had used to hurt McKennas. Rogan unzipped the bag slowly, a mischievous smile on his face. This was like playing spy or something. They had tried playing that at preschool, before he had gone on the trip with Mr. Sark. He found a gun, just like he had thought he would. It didn't look like a plastic one either. There were a few other things in there, a knife, a small phone, a computer, a tiny toy car like the ones that had been in the bedroom at the house they had been at before…and a book. It looked like a notebook that big kids used for school, so he pulled it out to see what was in it. This was the book Mr. Sark had said was his mother's. Fancy writing scrolled across the page, making Rogan wish he could read really well already. He was just starting to read, and he had been really proud until he saw this. He wondered what it said. A-l-e-c-k-s-a-n-d-r-i-a. That looked like a name. But he couldn't be sure. He looked from the book to Mr. Sark. That wasn't how Mr. Sark would be spelled. Too long. Maybe that was his mommy's name. He bit his lip and tried to decide whether to ask Mr. Sark about it or not. He might be mad if he found out that Rogan had looked through his bag. No, he wouldn't ask. He would wait until he learned to read better. Then he would know what it said.

Sydney kept stealing glances at Rogan when she first sat down at the table while Jack wanted to discuss logistics. He wasn't going to wait for Irina to come to them. They were going to go to her. This was the only way to break the Prophecy that declared that she would be coming after them. They would meet her head on, not have to deal with a surprise attack. Jack had intel that Irina was in Istanbul as of late yesterday afternoon. She had left Whitechapel for the city after she had surveyed Sark's cottage, presumably disappointed in finding it empty. None of them were sure why Irina had chosen Istanbul, but they weren't going to wait to find out why. Jack outlined a rather clever plan for them to surround her at the building she was staying out, leaving Sydney to face down her mother and Sark to protect Rogan. Jack would ultimately capture or kill Irina, and the Rambaldi prophecy would come to an end, with Sydney and Rogan coming out on the winning side. No major world catastrophes, no deaths that would end Rogan's world. All would be well, as long as they attacked her. Oddly enough, no one seemed to realize that this seemed to fall right into Rambaldi's prophecy, leaving Sark in a somewhat precarious position, Rogan open to kidnapping once more, and Sydney and Jack to death. Perhaps it was distraction all around that left these three off their game; Sydney consumed with worry for Rogan, Sark pondering his mother's part in Rambaldi, and Jack afraid of leaving Sark with Rogan in case he decided to turn on them all once more. Sydney wasn't the first to notice what Rogan was up to, as he slid the book over to his own backpack. Sark was on his feet and to the child in no time. Sydney tried to figure out what Rogan had a hold of, but Sark's fire was evident.

He ripped the book from Rogan, trying to keep his anger in check. The child had gone through his bag a deliberately taken his mother's journal, even after he knew what it was. Now the others knew about the journal, too. Not only that, but Rogan could have picked up his gun, shot himself, hurt any of them. He had to remember Rogan's age, remember that he was an inquisitive child. But at the moment, he wanted to punish him.

"Don't ever rummage through my belongings again, Rogan. My possessions are not yours to have free reign with. Do you understand!"

Rogan seemed shocked by this side of Sark. Not that he hadn't seen Sark angry, though the passion towards Rogan was rarely shown towards anyone else. Usually, he was a cool, seething type. Rogan nodded slowly, upset that he had angered Sark. Sark had always given Rogan the utmost care and respect, no matter what he had done to anyone else.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Sark. I dinn't mean to make you mad."

"Just don't do it again."

Sydney had been standing closely behind Sark, like a mother lioness ready to pounce on Sark if he decided to do anything that might harm Rogan. Surprisingly, Sark just picked up his bag and walked towards the weaponry area of the warehouse where Jack was removing several choices to take with them on their field trip to Istanbul.

Rogan looked up at Sydney with sad eyes. "I made him mad. I dinn't want to. He won't like me anymore."

Sydney enfolded her child in her arms. This little boy idolized Sark in a way that was dangerous. Mr. Sark shouldn't be that influential in Rogan's life. Sark was far from the idealized male role model that Sydney wanted in his life, no matter what Sark meant to her (when she allowed herself to admit it). Still, she comforted him.

"That book must be very special to him. And he doesn't want you to snoop. You know that's not okay, to go through other people's things."

"It was his mommy's book. I wanted to know what it said. But I couldn't read it."

Sydney looked distractedly over to Sark, wondering just what that book said. She knew part of the story of Sark and his mother. But she wondered if that book held the rest.

The plane to Istanbul was eerily quiet. Rogan was starting to wear down, as any child would after days of travel. He was stretched out on a small bench on the back of the plane, his dark hair falling into his face, hair that should have been trimmed a long time ago. He looked unhappy, his face in a pouting scowl, causing Sydney to wonder what her child was dreaming about. He certainly had plenty of life experience to cause nightmares, especially for a near four year old. Sydney was afraid to take her eyes off of his face, almost like if she turned her back, he would disappear once again. It wasn't like this experience had been the first time they'd been separated. She had missed so much time in his short life that she felt like she needed to hold onto him even tighter to make sure he never slipped from her grasp again. Despite all the circumstances of his conception, she loved Rogan with her whole heart and she couldn't keep failing him as a mother as she had before.

She resisted the urge to hold Rogan, because she knew this would only wake him up. Once he was awake, he would remain that way for hours. So she decided to focus her attention on something else. Or someone else. Her father was flying the plane, one of the talents she hadn't realized he had. She and Sark were left in the cabin, with Rogan, alone. Sark was sitting in the corner of the plane, near a window, the blackness from the night standing out against Sark's blond hair. He had the book out that Rogan had been hiding earlier; the book that Rogan had said was Sark's mothers. Alecksandria. She was something Sydney couldn't figure out. Alecksandria was a woman so dissimilar from her own mother, yet in other ways just as obsessive. If that was a journal, Alecksandria's turmoil could be spilled across those pages, explaining how she could give up her obsession for her child, explain that vital mother gene that Irina was missing. She could explain Rambaldi to her. But Sark was absorbed in it's pages, a disturbed look so similar to Rogan's sleeping face that made Sydney wonder what was troubling him as well.

Alecksandria hadn't written about Rambaldi. Not at first. Sark had been surprised that she hadn't immediately launched into Rambaldi's praises. The first entries detailed long days she had spent with her son, days that Sark had more or less forgotten about as years passed: trips to the park, a visit to a toy store, a row boat adventure on the lake. She seemed very much the doting mother, happy with the life she had made, not missing his father, completely focused on her son. But the tone turned darker, as the journal went on, at the mention of his father contacting her. Fear that he would try to take his son away, that he had known that Sark was his child, had shadowed the first mentions of Adrian Lazarey in this notebook. But it had turned just as fast as the journal's tones had. He had found something. Rambaldi had another prophecy. Lazarey couldn't translate it. He needed Alecksandria's help, because the Guardian's role was supposed to be explained through this one. Alecksandria had been unable to turn him down, though the decision was near impossible for her to make. She hadn't wanted to turn back to the life, turn back to Rambaldi, but she had known who the Guardian was all along. Just as Irina would bear the Chosen, she had born the Guardian. She had to know her son's part in the Prophecy, so she could protect him from it. Alecksandria's very words sounded just like Sydney's a few short days ago, that he could suddenly parallel their lives. Parents' misbegotten hope to protect their children from Rambaldi and spying seemed to appear in every generation, starting with Jack and Alecksandria. Would any of those hopes for protection ever come through?

He glanced up to see Sydney studying him. He didn't want to look away from her, he wanted to show her that she and his mother had felt the same things for their sons, no matter how different they were. But he couldn't. He didn't know if she would want to understand. Besides, he needed to continue reading. The diary went on, detailing Alecksandria's last meetings with Adrian, her work with the prophecy translations. Her beginnings of panic started to show through her words. She obviously didn't like what she was finding. Finally, he discovered the entry he had been looking for. The translation.

I will not let this happen to my child. I've been following Rambaldi for years and never once sought to question him, not until I found that Irina and I were to battle each other for our place in the Covenant. I refused to leave my son behind, to chance my life and his, for some foolish quest based on a prophet's dream from centuries past. I thought my leaving the Covenant behind would ensure our safety. I was so incredibly wrong. I suppose there is no way to run from destiny.

When Adrian contacted me, I feared that Julian would be ripped away from me. In a way, he has been. I don't know how I can stop this from happening, but I will not let my son be sacrificed. He deserves so much more than death at an early age. I burned the papyrus this was on, hoping that if Adrian and the rest couldn't find the Prophecy, it wouldn't come true. I know this is a unrealistic hope on my part.

Rambaldi believes that The Guardian, child of a traitorous follower, will play a major part in The Coming. When The Coming arrives, his death will signify the heir's choice. The Guardian, my Julian, will try his best to protect the child from the Fanatical, but her dedication to Rambaldi will prevail. Rambaldi will prevail. When the Guardian's blood spills, the child will come into his full powers. He will turn on all, the Fanatical, the Chosen, and any one else that stands in his path. His young age will leave him unable to control the powers he possesses, and when he is done, the world will be in a turmoil never seen before.

I don't know how to stop my son from playing a part in this, how to keep him from Rambaldi. I don't know how much longer I will be here to keep him away from The Covenant. If they ever discover who my son is, discover what part he plays, he will be pulled into a world I wish he would never have to see. Julian is a strong boy, but with the right forces at work, he will be destroyed. They all will. I can only hope Irina never finds out about him. And that I am around long enough to stop him from finding out his destiny. But Adrian will know what I've done. He will know that I've taken it with me. And I fear that will be the end of my life.

The journal ended not too many entries after that. His father had likely killed his mother. He had never felt too emotionally attached to the idea of a father, so he wasn't shocked. He'd been in the spy world for far too long. His mother had known about the Coming. She had given him the information he had needed about the Coming, so he could change it. He could only hope to change it. But there seemed to be a long line of hopes to change the prophecies that seemed futile. Still, he would be ready for Irina this time. He would bring an end to this madness.

He looked back up to see Sydney comforting Rogan. He had awakened at the plane's descent, crying about the turbulence, and popping in his ears. She was trying to comfort him the best way she knew how, though she had long ago lost the effect of the pressure in her eardrums after so many flights and loud explosions. He sympathized with the child for the pain he was in, but his thoughts returned to the next few hours. Soon, Rogan could be the one bring pain. They were there. Istanbul.


	15. Power

_**Believe**_

_**Chapter Fifteen**_

_**Power**_

Irina smiled as she got word that Jack's plane had landed in Istanbul. She almost chuckled at how deeply he underestimated her, despite all his vows of never doing that exact thing again. He always assumed he was the better spy, and at times, she was willing to admit he was. But not this time. She would wait for them, wait for Sark to come to his death, wait for Rogan to come to his power. Her grandchild was the special one that Rambaldi spoke of. She was part of the bloodline that would bring forth Rambaldi's greatest powers. All she had to do was assume her role, let it play out in front of her, and wait the rest of it out.

Sark kept Rogan to the side of the building, as Sydney and Jack entered cautiously. He wasn't going to enter the building at all, unless Sydney called him in on their communication link. Their goal was to keep Rogan as far away from Irina as they possibly could. Since Irina didn't know they were coming she wouldn't be looking for Rogan. Rogan could tell that whatever was about to happen it was extremely important. The looks on all the grown up faces were somber, and the way Sydney hugged him made him worry. It was even worse than when she was going away on a long trip. Jack had ruffled his hair before they had split up, a show of affection from his grandfather that was rarely seen. Rogan turned to Mr. Sark, seeing him look even more serious than usual. He didn't know what was happening, and he didn't particularly enjoy being left out.

"Mr. Sark, what's 'appenin'?"

Sark shook his head, keeping watch around the scene without even looking at Rogan. "I need you to be silent right now, Rogan. We need to stay as quiet as possible, so I can concentrate."

Rogan had heard the concentration word before, but he wasn't quite sure what that meant. He figured now wasn't a good time to ask since Mr. Sark had just told him to be quiet, but he wished he knew. Maybe he could help Mr. Sark concentrate if he knew what it meant.

Cars drove through the streets. This building was hardly the abandoned warehouse Sark had been hoping for. This place was too crowded, too exposed, too easy to slip through unnoticed and hard to catch in such a place. Anyone could see him, see any of them and report it. There could be witnesses. He didn't like this plan much. He should have done this alone and insisted Jack be left out of this. He was too clouded in his judgment of Irina. He never thought clearly when she was involved. He should have made the plan himself.

He spoke uneasily into the mic, "Sydney, are you in?"

Her hushed voice came over his earphone, "I'm in. But something's not right, Sark. This is too easy. This can't possibly be this easy."

"I'm getting the same thought. Sydney, I'm coming in."

"No!"

Then the link went silent.

Sydney walked down a virtually empty corridor. She was surprised by how empty the building was compared to the activity she had seen outside. The building was plush, seemingly some kind of apartment building. Her mother was on the top floor; a penthouse of sorts. She had taken one set of stairs, her father another. She was supposed to go in first. Have a sort of confrontation with her mother while her father snuck through a back entrance. She had a few things she wanted to say to Irina, so she had accepted this plan. But something felt off. This seemed too easy. Just waltzing into Irina's room, confronting her without anything going wrong seemed impossible. The halls were far too empty. The situation wasn't right. And Sark had the same feeling. She could hear it in his voice when he spoke over the mic. As much as she wanted him in there for back up, she knew that would just make things worse. Sark couldn't be near Irina right now. Rogan had to be kept safe. Sark was about the only one she knew that could keep Rogan safe.

She told him no, intending to elaborate, but the communications link went silent. It was as if someone had simply switched them off. They had tested them before they had entered the building and everything had been fine. They weren't faulty. This could only mean one thing. Irina knew they were there. She had blocked the signal. She was waiting.

Sydney looked at the door in front of her. She had planned on picking the lock to enter, but a feeling came over her. She tried the knob and it twisted easily. Irina had left it wide open for her to enter. She was right. Irina was waiting.

"Hello, Sydney. Nice of you to join me."

Her figure was silhouetted against the wall, a contrast to the sunlight streaming in through the window.

"Hi, Mom."

Jack hadn't been expecting what he had come upon. This was a surprise attack. Irina had no indication that he had been reunited with Sydney and Rogan, and he had been given what he had believed was reliable intel, so there should have been no problem in getting into this building to complete the plan. However, his contact was obviously corrupt. They were waiting on him not far from the door in the corridor. He had seen the first one and prepared to fight, but the others came fast. Before he could fight them off, he had five men holding him down, blocking his fists. They had him down in a way that rarely happened. He was Jack Bristow the Undefeatable. He should have known Irina was prepared. Irina was always prepared; she was always one step ahead of him. He had always been a match for her, but she seemed to be able to get the upper hand more often than not. Once again, she had managed this. He could only hope that Sydney would be over to compensate for his missing while he escaped the five goons.

"I was waiting for you. It's been a long time."

Irina's tone was oddly warm and inviting. Sydney knew that this was a ploy to make her feel slightly more relaxed, perhaps to make her let down her guard. No matter how kind Irina's voice was Sydney knew better. She had to remember all that she had done.

"I understand you finally met your grandson. He was surprised to meet you."

"He's an intelligent, attractive boy. Takes after his parents."

"Because you've met Rambaldi. Listen, Mother, I know you've planned on him coming into power, choosing the dark side and all that, but it's not going to happen."

Sydney stood tall, her muscles taut and ready to pounce should her mother decide to attack at any moment. Irina had a small, knowing smile on her face, her eyes sparkling with condescension.

"I'm sorry that we had to do things the way we did, but you haven't accepted your destiny. You never have. You've fought it all the way. But destiny is something you can't fight."

"Destiny isn't real. Life is what you make it. I intend to make my son's life as comfortable and wonderful as possible. Rambaldi doesn't factor into this equation, other than the fact that he helped give my son life. You don't factor into that equation, either. I can fight destiny. I can fight you."

Irina circled the room cautiously, preparing herself for Sydney's attack. She could see the fire in her daughter's eyes, and she knew that this was it. The final battle between the two of them. Soon Rogan would enter and The Chosen One would be destroyed by the child. She was ready when Sydney sprang forward, pushing her body back into a wall. Sydney grunted at the impact, but she jumped forward once again to punch Irina's stomach. Irina deflected the blow and threw her own. The fight seemed to just go on without anyone gaining an inch.

Sark couldn't explain the feeling of panic inside of his chest. The broken comms left him feeling helpless. Sark never felt helpless. He cursed himself for getting too involved with Sydney, involved with Rogan. He almost felt like Rogan was his family. He hadn't had a family for more than 15 years, but the unfortunate emotions were inside of him. He felt like he had a responsibility to someone other than himself. That was what would get him killed.

Rogan was trying to run after him with his short stubby legs, but the boy was only slowing him down. He was just trying to get to Sydney so he could end this on his terms. He wanted Rogan to stay behind, but he couldn't leave the child. He would be easily snatched up alone. He tried to accept the fact that Rogan would still need protecting while they tried to get to his mother, albeit slowly.

Sark heard the voices before Rogan and relief flooded through him for only a moment. He heard the voices turn into grunts as mother and daughter fought to the death to end this tangled mess of Rambaldi. Where was Jack? Why hadn't he entered to play his role in the final battle? Sark glanced around and saw no other guards around the hall. Something was seriously wrong for there not to be guards near Irina. She had been expecting them. He glanced at Rogan, wondering if they still had a chance at changing the Prophecy.

"Stay here, Rogan, for your own safety. I need to go help your mother. Do not move from this spot unless I instruct you to. Do you understand me?"

Rogan nodded with a look of terror on his face. This poor child was incredibly intuitive and he always knew when something terrible was about to happen. Sark ruffled the boy's hair in an unusual act of comfort before turning back to run into Irina's room. He hadn't noticed that things were already in motion that a gun from his bag had been missing before they had split up around the building, and that a young boy held it in his knapsack ready to play cops and robbers with his grandmother.

Sark's entrance didn't go unnoticed by Irina. A large smile spread across her face. She could almost taste the victory as The Coming came to pass. Everything was going as she had planned, despite the cuts and bruises she had spreading across her face, arms, and other extremities. Sark raised his gun, trying to get a clear shot when two guards came into the room, one pointing a gun directly to his temple, the other pointing one to the back of his head. Sark dropped the gun instantly, disappointed in himself for falling into such an obvious trap. He knew better than this. At least he had, before his emotions had gotten the better part of him. He had tried to push loving Sydney away, when he had left her that day with Rogan in her arms, knowing that he would never change. But he had. In subtle ways that most wouldn't notice. He was off his game and that was what had led him into this trap.

Sydney stopped battling Irina when she saw the situation Sark was in. Her hope that Sark would swoop in and help her kill her mother, since her father was delayed in coming, was dashed. Irina knew she wouldn't keep fighting as long as Sark was held at gunpoint unless Rogan's life was absolutely in danger at that very moment. She held her stance, but she stopped the actual fighting. Irina was circling her again, a look of satisfaction on her face. It was only a matter of time.

The look was wiped off her face almost instantaneously as a bullet went into her back, just barely missing her heart. She dropped to the ground, her shock written all over her face. Sydney whirled as Sark ducked to grab his gun and shoot the two guards down who had been distracted by the gun shot. Sydney ran to her son, who had fallen to the ground from the blast of the gun. A small handheld, the blast was still able to knock him to the floor when he had fired the gun from the doorway. How he had figured out to use the weapon was beyond Sydney. Perhaps it was a natural, inbred talent that came with the Bristow name. Where he had gotten it, she had an idea. She pulled him into her arms, cradling him.

"My baby, my baby…." She rocked him, unable to speak. The danger he had been in from outside forces and by his own. What if the gun had backfired? Or if he had pointed it the wrong way? Tears streamed down her face, falling into Rogan's dark hair. She heard Irina's muttering as the life faded out of her, but she didn't care what she had said.

Sark heard it however.

"He chose. Just as Rambaldi said. But he chose you…."

The confusion and depression in her voice mingled with pain as she exhaled her last breath. Sark rushed to Sydney pulling her into his own arms, holding onto the two people in the world that he cared about. The outcome of this had fallen into the realm of Rambaldi's Prophecy, but the ending had turned out differently. The Coming was hype. The Coming had ended with Rogan saving his mother and himself. A four year old had saved his life. What would Alecksandria think of this outcome? She likely hadn't imagined it in her wildest dreams.

Jack entered the room, staring at the aftermath of the event. The dead guards, as well as Irina lying in the middle of the floor, left him wondering what exactly had gone down. Escaping his own guards had taken some finesse, but as he was Jack Bristow, he was successful.

"Sydney. Are you all right? Sydney?"

She looked up at her father, pain in her eyes.

"Rogan shot Irina. He had Sark's gun…I think he must have snuck it from Sark's again and put it in his own backpack. I don't know how he could use it. He did. He saved us…"

The unspoken words hung in the air. He had killed his grandmother. He had committed murder. This young, innocent child had committed murder.

Jack knelt down before them, waiting for Sydney to continue. "We're not going back to LA. We can't. I have to keep him away from this life. Dad, look at what happened. I've stopped the Prophecy. Now I have to keep him safe. I haven't done a good job of that these last four years."

"We'll find you a safe place. We'll give you a new identity." Jack was ready to continue on with a list of things they would do when Sark spoke.

"We'll go to Whitechapel. We'll stay there. We'll be safe there. Rogan will be safe."

Sydney hadn't shrugged his arms away from her. The way his arms felt around her left her feeling warm, and at the moment, that was what she needed. Her anger at him had melted the minute she had her son to focus on once more, his pain and sorrow more important to her than any other all-consuming feeling. She turned to look at him, his blue eyes, his proud, knowing smirk on his face. She felt the pull between them once again, the magnetism that had been there since the moment she had seen him in that warehouse. The power he possessed was something she needed, something Rogan needed. She could see the emotions in his eyes: love, pain, power, and fear.

"You'll let Rogan and I stay at your hideaway?"

"We'll stay there. We can keep Rogan completely safe."

Jack was ready to intrude with his opinion, but Sydney held up her hand. "I want him away from this life."

"Whitechapel is away from this life, Sydney. It's my sanctuary. It can be yours too."

"Sanctuary."

"I can't promise to give this life up for you or Rogan. I am who I am. But I can keep you away from predators, keep you safe. I've always had Rogan's best interest in mind since we found him. Even when I took him to Irina."

Sydney balked at that statement, but she didn't refuse. Whitechapel was safe. Home. She couldn't say Sark made her feel safe. He made her feel challenged and off balance. But she couldn't imagine having a life without him again either. Even when she felt like killing him he invaded her thoughts. He did care for her son. He had shown that time and again. He cared for her too. They just had a different way of showing it.

He could see the indecision in her eyes. She was being cautious and rightfully so. But he knew he would be best for her and Rogan. Or maybe she would be best for him. He saw her fight going out of her, the fire going and the acceptance filling her. Before she could respond he leaned forward to kiss her, one of possessive passion. She didn't fight him, no slapping or protest. She succumbed to the feeling, forgetting her son and her father for a moment, and only remembering how good it felt to kiss Sark again.

"Rogan will be happy there. He was happy there. It will be our sanctuary…you will be."

The End


End file.
